


Love Letters

by Gingerslam



Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Development, Christian Character, Developing Relationship, Extended Families, F/M, Family Bonding, Friendship/Love, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical References, Married Couple, Married Life, No Smut, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship, Romantic Soulmates, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-14 16:19:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 60
Words: 59,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14139798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gingerslam/pseuds/Gingerslam
Summary: “Love Letters” explores how a distance of 240 years is no deterrent to love.  Claire, Uncle Lambert, Dr. Abernathy, and relics expert Yi Tien Cho try to unravel the mystery of the cleft stone in Scotland's Cairngorms National Park and how an errant toss of a hand-drawn sketch ultimately makes for heart-warming correspondence between Claire in 2016 and Jamie in 1776.





	1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Day One - July 10th, 2016; Cairngorms National Park, Scotland.  
Uncle Lamb and I had relocated to Oxford from Cairo about five years ago. He had taken a teaching position there, while I attempted to graduate early from upper school and begin taking university courses of my own in London. This set me at a complete disadvantage in the friends department, yet managed to earn me a certain measure of unwanted attention in the biochemical engineering department.  
I took this summer off from internships, classes, and labs and instead followed my uncle to the Scottish Highlands. It was a breath of fresh air, literally and figuratively, to be back in the field with him.  
This location wasn't really within Uncle Lamb's usual scope of historical exploration, he was an expert on the intermediate Egyptian dynasties with several books published on the more specific topic of New Kingdom hieroglyphics, but he had lost a bet with a favorite professor friend of his and, so, here we were.  
Tipping my head back, I peered up the steep slope of the hill. Hiking was never far out of the realm of possibility with my uncle and I thanked my lucky stars I had worn my boots today. "It's at the top?" I asked, rather unnecessarily.  
Of course, it was at the top. It was always at the top. Except when it was at the very bottom, but, even then, you had to climb back to the top.  
"Yep!" Dr Joe Abernathy, an American who specialized Scottish folklore, replied eagerly.  
I trailed behind Uncle Lamb and Dr Joe as we hiked the path up to the top of Craigh na Dunn, listening absently to the two of them discuss the myths surrounding the site. They were two peas in a pod, although Dr Joe was significantly younger than my uncle, and were both in a titter about recently found artifacts or some such.  
"And you say they just appear at the base?" My uncle asked skeptically.  
Dr Joe nodded, "Dead as door nails."  
The thought of poor, dead birds randomly materializing on the ground in the middle of a henge made me shudder.  
What on earth had I agreed to?  
…  
Day Three - July 13th, 2016.  
I sat on the ground between two of the outer stones and chewed on the end of my pencil as I tried to get the cleft in the center stone right. It was quickly frustrating me, being almost geometrically proportional but off just enough to make it irritatingly irregular.  
Tearing the page out of my sketchbook, I crumpled it up into a tight ball and threw it at the offending rock. It arched perfectly, looking like it was going to pass right thru the divide. I silently congratulated myself as I waited to see if it would land my uncle, who was working on the other side.  
A startled shriek escaped my lips as the paper vanished into thin air.  
"Are you alright, Claire?" Uncle Lamb stuck his head around the side of the stone.  
Pointing above his head, I gaped, "Where the hell did it go?"  
"Where did what go?" Dr Joe asked, coming towards me.  
"My paper," I stood as I answered. "I threw it at the stone and it disappeared."  
Dr Joe laughed and patted me on the head patronizingly, "Sure you did, kid."  
"I'm eighteen and I know what I saw!" I informed him.  
…  
Day Four - July 14th, 2016.  
One of my favorite things to do when I was in the field with Uncle Lamb was to go for morning hikes. We were both early risers, but, as he need an entire pot of coffee before he was ready to do anything productive, I used it as my own private, quiet time.  
I got to the top of the hill just as the sun was beginning to hit the standing stones. The sunrise painted the already eerie monoliths in an almost otherworldly light and I took out my phone to quickly capture the moment. Something white caught my eye in the corner of the image, prompting me to move closer to the center stone to investigate.  
It was my paper.  
Mouth open in astonishment, I scooped it up. It was slightly damp from the dew, but very obviously the paper I had thrown the afternoon before. It certainly hadn't been there before we left, I had scoured the site looking for it to no avail.  
I uncrumpled it and dropped the sheet of paper like it was a hot coal.  
Someone had finished my sketch, signing their work with five neat letters in the bottom left hand corner.  
JAMMF


	2. Chapter 2

I spun slowly in a circle, looking intently in every direction, to see if there was a crew filming me for some prank show, or to catch Uncle Lamb and Dr. Joe hiding, busting a gut at me finding their "response" on my sketch that had they chided me about disappearing.

Either way, I waited for someone to claim responsibility for the ruse. 

After half an hour no one showed.

I traipsed off, looking behind bushes and up into trees. 

No one.

The chill of the morning was quickly being replaced with the intense heat of the noon sun, already blazing in a clear sky. It was going to be a scorcher.

Uncle Lamb and Dr. Joe should be arriving for more treks, though part of me still hoped they were behind some blind, about to show up and put this nonsense to rest.

I sat in the shade, far enough away from the creepy cleft stone, near the bottom of the hill, and took out the Orangina and panini I'd brought; when they arrive there'd be no stopping until evening.

I took the sketch out of my back pocket and focused on the signature.

JAMMF

 

It couldn't be a name, but I wasn't familiar with local monikers. 

Acronym? Initials?

I looked more closely at how the sketch had been enhanced; balance was improved…blending was spot on…perspective vastly righted.

"Pretty vain to put your stamp all over someone else's work and sign YOUR name to it. 'Lemme just do this and that and this and that….JAMMF'" I said into the hot, heavy air.

"JAMMF my Aunt Fanny!" I yelled, louder.

 

Though the sketch, I was angry to admit, did show finesse, the signature stood in contrast; it was in the same dark graphite as had been used to finish the sketch - maybe a 7B or more likely an 8B - but it resembled rough script. The first thing that came to mind upon seeing it was John Hancock's signature on the Declaration of Independence, written nearly 240 years ago to the day.


	3. Chapter 3

\--Nearly 240 years ago, to the day.

 

While a few dozen men in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania were risking their lives, fortune, and sacred honor in a Declaration of Independence, near Crag na dunn, Scotland James Alexander Malcom Mackenzie Fraser was contemplating a different document; one which would fortuitously find him.

At 23, "Jamie" would be here for a few weeks. Although the purpose was to pick up supplies for his family, in truth he was sent on the errand along with his Godfather Murtagh who was there - by his parent's design - to "encourage" Jamie to wed Laoghaire Mackenzie. 

Having arrived slightly past sunrise, Jamie and Murtagh had stopped to rest, water their horses, and have some breakfast.

Jamie, seeing the standing stones nearby, thought they would be a good hiding place from Murtagh. Though he loved his Godfather dearly, and considered him to be a best friend, Murtagh was incredibly stubborn and took his role seriously. Jamie had managed to avoid any lengthy discussion of the marriage with him until now, and wanted to make sure that continued for a while longer.

Stories of the standing stones were a large part of Jamie's childhood. Tales of fae playing tricks, and townfolk being gobbled up and spit out who knows where, they were as much Scotland as heather and whiskey. 

"Maybe I'll be gobbled up and spit out somewhere I can wed a woman who isn't demon possessed" Jamie muttered, his plea coming out as dragon's breath in the cold morning air.

Hoping to slip away without notice, Jamie went to the stones while Murtagh unpacked the horses and drew them to a stream.

Hiding in front of the stone that was the furthest from Murtagh's eye, Jamie sat down and tried to make sense of the past few months of bickering and ultimatums.

A gust of wind rolled a wadded up piece of what looked like parchment past his leg.

Jamie opened the wad to find a beautiful sketch of the same stone he was sitting beside. The paper was unusual; thin, unbelievably flat, and white. 

He ran his fingers over the drawing. The lead was the nicest he'd seen. It was smooth and had rendered fine lines.

"Someone must have been sitting here thinking, like me."

Taking his Mother's roll-up case of graphite sticks out of his sporran, something he often took with him when traveling, he added some shading here and a bit of balance there. As he'd seen his Mother do on many of her paintings, he signed the bottom with his initials, JAMMF, and placed it into his boot.


	4. Chapter 4

Murtagh had kept Jamie in sight, knowing he was hiding in the stones. The issue needed to be addressed so with the horses watered and tethered he grabbed the remaing food – some bread, cheese, and relish – and went to his Godson.

“Hiding again, aye? Just like you did when you were a bairn.”

“I’m no a bairn. I’m a grown man who wants to choose his own wife and not be wed to a lass with a temper as fierce as a fiend from hell.”

“I ken she’s a rough lass. Your Mam and Da….they just want to see ye settled is all. Ye’ve taken no interest in anyone, lad. They’re trying to help.”

“I’d rather gouge my own eyes out.”

“You’d do better with your ears. Then ye’d no have to hear her.”

Glancing up at his Godfather, Jamie laughed for the first time in months.

“’tis good to hear ye laugh, son.”

Patting Jamie on the arm, Murtagh began to arrange the kindling for a fire. It was another cold, misty Scottish morning.

As he arranged the sticks and lit them from his flint, he watched Jamie. The lad had been withdrawn the whole journey, and now Murtagh could see he was becoming more so.

They’d been quiet for nearly an hour when Murtagh spoke up.

“I’m no here to force ye, Jamie. Just to get you to realize an angel isn’t going to drop out of that rock and land in your lap. Laogharie may have a head full of cats but she’s willing to wed ye and the dowry will help your Mam and Da.” 

“And what of my will?” Jamie spat out.

“Dinna get your dander up” Murtagh countered. “Then tell me. What is yer will? Because for all anyone knows it’s to be alone the rest of yer life.”

“I could be just like you, then. No one seems to have a problem with that.”

Before the last word had left his mouth, Jamie realized it was cold and uncalled for.

“Aye. I’ve no wife. I loved once, and it wasn’t to be” Murtagh painfully replied. “So I’ve lived alone rather than be with someone for convenience.” 

“Forgive me, Godfather. It was wrong of me to react so.”

Murtagh knew Jamie had a point, but to divulge to him that the woman he loved so dearly was his mother would have, naturally, removed some of the burden from himself, but it would have been placed on his already heavy-spirited Godson. 

“I understand lad. Like I said, I’m no here to force ye or make it more difficult. Just to help.”

“The lasses have been bonny, but…” Jamie offered, stopping to find a way to explain why he’s been reluctant to wed “…they dinna make me laugh. And the things that are a part of me, like art, animals, and reading…they call ‘fools errands.’ Is there no lass anywhere who can talk wi’ me of such things?”

Murtagh had been looking into the fire as Jamie spoke, stroking his beard, recalling that the very things Jamie longed for he had himself found in Ellen, and no one else since. But she’d eventually chosen Brian, relegating Murtagh to Godfather of her son. Not that he ever minded, for Jamie was like his own.

“Have ye prayed on this?” Murtagh offered, trying to steer away from any more talk of himself.

“Aye. Every morn and every eve. And depending on how engaging the Priests’s sermon is, during mass as well.”

It was Murtagh’s time to laugh now. Smiling, he nodded to Jamie. 

“Let’s eat, aye? We’ll need to start gathering from the list of things from yer Mam and Da.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Can we get them later?” Jamie said, laying down and pulling his tartan around his shoulders.

“Aaaarrgh. Alright. But we didna come all this way to lollygag” Murtagh replied, watching Jamie drift off. Seeing peacefulness finally take him, Murtagh realized a quick snooze might not be a bad idea and he soon drifted off as well.

Giving Jamie’s boot a kick a few hours later in order to wake him, Murtagh laid out their immediate plans: “Food won’t bring itself to us, aye? Get your bow. We’ll hunt rabbit like we did when ye were a wee’un. Then we’ll go into town.”

Seeing Murtagh walking away toward the nearby woods, Jamie scrambled to fetch his bow and quiver. 

Within a few minutes they’d landed 3 rabbits: 2 to Murtagh and 1 to Jamie. Not wanting the balance to be in his Godfather’s favor, which he’d not live down any time soon, Jamie offered a re-match. 

“See the cleft in that stone? I’ll wager my flask of whiskey that ye canna place your arrow into it.”

“Are ye daft lad? I can do it with only one eye.”

“The way you caught those hares made me wonder if ye already were.”

Raising an eyebrow, Murtagh’s sure sign of annoyance, he pulled a bow from the quiver on his back and aimed at the stone. It missed, veering to the right.

Jamie suppressed a laugh for a full minute, causing Murtagh to snap: “Get on with it ye dobber.”

Jamie eyed the target, and aimed. It hit the rock, but was a foot below the cleft.

Recalling the sketch in his boot, he pulled it out and ran to cram it in the cleft. “There. I’ve given ye something to focus on. Double or nothing to hit the parchment.”

Rolling his eyes, Murtagh took aim. His arrow skimmed the side of the stone, and landed a few feet behind it.

“Glad it was no a rabbit. We’d be starving.”

“SHOOT THE STONE AND QUIT YER YAPPIN’”

Suppressing another riotous laugh, Jamie steadied himself. He’d always been a steady, sure shot and he tried to remember practicing when he was a teenager as he shot targets while riding his horse. 

He retracted the arrow and released it. What it did do was hit the parchment. What it didn’t do was remain there.

In a flash of light the arrow and parchment disappeared.

For the next few minutes neither Jamie nor Murtagh said anything. Eventually, Murtagh crossed himself and motioned for Jamie to do the same.


	6. Chapter 6

Laying down on the cool grass, Claire held up the sketch to cover the encroaching sun, which actually highlighted a hole she hadn’t seen before. 

Draping it over her face, she immediately pulled it away. 

“WHY DOES THIS SMELL LIKE A BOOT?”

The far-off sounds of tour buses and megaphones announced the first batch of tourists. Uncle Lamb and Dr. Joe should be showing up at any minute.

“I’ll text them where I am. I’m not moving out of the shade.”

Turning the sketch over, Claire began another drawing. Like most national parks, Cairngorms was combination historic landmarks, gardens, woods and waters; with this much natural beauty Claire’s hand was guided by the flora and fauna this time, and not the rocky structures. 

A half-hour’s intense concentration had produced the beautiful treeline she was sat near, the mountains behind it, and at the base of the woods some forget-me-nots. To add whimsy, she drew a squirrel hanging upside down from a tree branch holding a sign that read “CEB” in the same script Jamie used for his signature. 

She folded it up and slipped it into her back pocket. 

Her phone buzzed and she glanced quickly at the display, accurately predicting that the text was from Uncle Lamb. 

“Up top. Find a good spot?”

Uncle never required that I stay by his side at a dig unless there was a safety issue, which there sometimes was, but he did like to know where I wandered off to. 

The greatest risk to life and limb out here was a stray, determined Highland cow. The fuzzy, curious beasts were adorable from afar and rather a nuisance up close. They were personable to a fault and the one I’d met on our trip thought my hair and shirtsleeve were a wonderful snack. 

“Aye,” I fired off, mimicking the locals. “Just below. Did you eat?”

Uncle Lamb was notorious for getting caught up in the workings of the dig and forgetting to eat entirely. His wiry frame gave witness to many years of this habit, no matter how often I tried to remind him. 

“Indeed” was his only response. 

My phone buzzed again, but this time the face of the man I’d come out here to forget appeared on the screen. 

Frank. 

He was phoning me again and I instinctively hit decline. I had nothing to say to him, nor did I care to hear what he had to say to me. He’d said it all before I left — both him and England — and it was a load of malarkey, the whole of it. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s you I love, not her.”

“It won’t happen again.”

But it did happen again. Again and again, he chose to go behind my back and see other women, to lie to my face about what he was doing and who he was with. He was discreet about it, but I’d caught him, just the same. 

Moments after I blocked the call, he texted me. 

"Please talk to me, Claire." 

I frowned, vowing to myself - Not for all the tartan in Scotland, Frankie. 

Making my way to Uncle Lamb and Dr. Joe, I fought against my gut and decided to chuck this sketch through again.

I took a step back and tossed it through the cleft, watching in astonishment as it disappeared. I hurried around the stone and, sure enough, I found no trace of my paper. Grinning like an idiot, I quickly made note of the event in my phone, documenting the results as any good scholar should. 

13/7/16, 4pm — paper disappears  
14/7/16 7am — returned with completed sketch and signature.  
14/7/16 2pm — second paper sent. 

I hadn’t told my uncle or Dr. Joe about the sketch, remembering the American’s reaction when I mentioned it had disappeared in the first place, but chose to send this missive on my own. Uncle Lamb would have believed me, knowing I wouldn’t lie, except I hadn’t had a moment alone with him to talk it over since it happened. If I got a response this time, I would definitely be sharing my findings.


	7. Chapter 7

“Still in parking lot?” Claire texted Uncle Lamb.

“ No. Found a second-hand store with incredible air-conditioning. And ice-cold drinks. Will gladly wait for you here. Joe says take your time.”

“Ha Ha. On my way.”

Leaving the stones, Claire stepped on something. She continued on, preoccupied with how a piece of paper was vanishing through rock, so didn’t look down. Turning around, though, she looked through the grass for what it might have been; she remembered, from working with her Uncle, that a lot of surprising finds had come after re-examination. Considering everything that had been going on, she vowed to be more mindful of her surroundings. While kicking the grass around she thought she saw the tip of an arrow. 

“Didn’t expect to dig up artifacts today…” she said to herself as she bent down.

Retrieving a complete arrow, which she immediately knew was not modern, prompted her to look on the ground for anything else that might be with it.

Finding nothing else, she took a moment to examine it. 

“Approximately 70 cm in length….shaft is wood…Ash, I think… flax binding, and pigeon - no - hawk fletching. Animal bone arrowhead. 18th century, used with a short bow. Probably for rabbits and other small game. Don’t think there were buffalo around here.”

As she looked closer, she saw that something was stuck to the arrowhead.

“Cotton, maybe? Most likely animal fur.”

She pulled it off and rolled it around in her fingertips.

“That’s….paper.”

“What are people doing messing about with an 18th century arrow? Do they have no respect? Just shooting it around like it’s a toy….”

She felt her stomach turn, and the blood leave her head.

“Oh no. No no no no no.”

Without having the sketch to confirm her suspicion, it would remain a theory until it showed up again.

Which it then did.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since last week's chapter was somewhat short, I'm posting the next chapter early. :-)

Deciding now was a good time to make their way into town, Murtagh and Jamie made a wide circle around the stone which had, in their best estimation, just consumed both arrow and parchment. Wanting to avoid the same fate, they walked well clear of it on their way to the horses.

“I’ll gather them and meet ye down the road” Jamie yelled to Murtagh.

Murtagh, ahead of him, waved.

And yet…. Jamie’s curiosity got the best of him. With Murtagh a few dozen paces in front of him, hurrying away no doubt, Jamie backtracked near the stone just to make sure there was nothing there.

But there was. 

It was on the ground.

He was more eager to open it than he was when the first one rolled past his leg. Knowing, in this instance, the delivery was intentional made it somewhat exciting. 

It was a landscape. Rendered well, again. It was a treeline he wasn’t familiar with but the mountains were definitely the ones near the stones. 

Jamie sat down, looking into the distance.

“Were they lonely, the person who drew this – sitting here with a heavy heart? Were they traveling along, seized by the beauty of nature, and needed to render it for memory?”

His thoughts then wandered from who they might be to where they might be.

“Tales of the stones say people are taken in, but nothing's ever been found here that came from somewhere else. And yet, I’m receiving these beautiful sketches. The parchment is the finest I’ve seen, and the graphite is smooth. Could they be from another time – maybe a ways into the future?”

He laid the sketch on his lap, the morning sun warming his back.

“Would surely be a blessing to know the hands and heart behind this.”

What perplexed him was that a squirrel was hanging upside down from a branch. He’d seen squirrels in all manner of animation – scurrying up and down trees, jumping from branch to branch, but never this way.

And it was holding something? 

“That was truly impossible. They’d only ever carried their young on their backs, or ate at an acorn in their paws. Not a…. piece of slate?”

He looked more closely at the sketch.

“CEB? Oh, aye. They were imitating the signature I’d used.”

Retrieving his mother’s graphite sticks again, he drew a likeness of himself under the same tree as the squirrel, holding a slate in his hands with his full name on it, then addressed it in the little space that was left at the bottom:

_CEB,_

_Your renderings have been received with great happiness. I hope you are not displeased with my additions. They are meant with the utmost respect._

_I remain,_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Jamie_

He folded it, tied the sketch to a rock, stepped several paces back and threw it - hitting the cleft on the stone directly.

The ground rumbled and a gust of wind took it in a flash.

“No time to wait for another. Need to gather Mam and Da’s things.”

He hurried to untie the horses from the trees near the stream so Murtagh wouldn’t worry where he was. He got atop Blueskin, a half Arabian, and pulled Nelson, a chestnut gelding, behind him.

He caught up with Murtagh, still walking quickly, his head down and his hands flapping around in the air.

“…blasted nonsense it all is. A piece of parchment canna just disappear with an arrow shot through a rock. Isna possible to…”

“Who are ye talking to?” Jamie inquired of his Godfather as he pulled up behind him.

“Blah! Ye nearly scared the water outta me!”

Laughing, Jamie handed the reigns from Nelson to Murtagh. 

"If yer done yapping, we should be getting to town" he snickered to his Godfather.


	9. Chapter 9

Shrieking, Claire instinctively ran from the newest delivery which came with a whoosh of wind and a slight rumble. Waiting for her heart to still, she approached the stone cautiously. 

“DID YOU NOT SEE ME STANDING RIGHT THERE? Good Golly.”

She looked for what appeared. Nothing was close by so she wondered if anything was there at all. With the arrow still in her hand she knelt to run her other hand on the ground. Scooching around on her knees, she stuck the arrow under her arm to keep it safe. Eventually she found a rock several yards away.

“Aha! Found ya.”

She undid the twine to get to the paper, looking specifically for a hole. It was in the upper right.

“Thought so.”

Sitting down, she laid the arrow and the paper beside her. Without knowing why, tears pooled in her eyes. Seeing the handsome man in a kilt, holding a sign that finally explained who was out there, touched her. But it was the handwritten note that caused her to well up.

“I’m not displeased James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Frazer. Archer. Artist. Friend.”

Sighing, she contemplated what this was going to mean. 

“How am I going to explain all of this? I better do it scientifically. I’ll be taken more seriously… _if_ one can be taken seriously proposing that you’re communicating, through a stone, with someone who lives centuries in the past.”

She gently put the arrow, twine, rock, and sketch in her backpack.

As Claire began her walk into town she put everything she knew about what was happening into a conclusion-based framework, otherwise known as the scientific method. It was something she’d had to do countless times throughout her classes, and with Uncle Lamb on digs: Observe, Question, Experiment, Organize Data, Draw a Conclusion, Report Results.

“First” she said, tredging along “ would be my observations.” 

Observations: 

_“I have observed materials passing completely through a standing stone. Each time I have thrown a balled-up piece of paper at a certain crack in a particular stone it vanishes. It does not pass through…it does not collect $200…‘haha! Ok. FOCUS’ …to the other side of the stone. Then it’s returned. It is occurring in the month of July 2016. There is no person anywhere near that could be manipulating or affecting this situation, nor is there anyone near enough to be playing a prank. Weather is clear with no wind. The stone is not ‘false’ or a magical trick rock. It is approximately 12 feet high, by 4 feet wide, by 12 inches thick. Dolerite? Granite? Possibly Neolithic time period.”_

Claire continued thinking aloud:

Question:

 _“1. Is the paper that is being thrown possibly falling into a hole?_  
2\. _Is it being blown away?_  
3\. _Is it, like lore says, being taken to another time period?"_

Hypothesis:

_"I propose that the paper is being taken to another time, possibly 2 centuries ago."_

Experiment:

 _"A random toss of notebook paper at a cleft-laden stone, afternoon in July, resulted in it vanishing._

_Several hours later the same paper was observed on the ground by the stone. It had been written on – rough graphite - by another individual and signed ‘JAMMF.’ Small hole in upper right quadrant. Slight smell of leather. An 18th century arrow was found on the ground near the stone as well. Cannot effectively conclude the two are connected but the paper had a hole and the arrowhead had paper on it._

_I turned the paper over, wrote something on the back, and threw it at the same stone in the same place, about 8 hours later. It vanished._

_2nd return of the paper, a few hours later, came tied to a rock. A supposed self portrait of the person (gentleman in traditional Scottish attire) and handwritten communication signed with gentleman’s given names and surname - ‘James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser’ were added to the previous sketch."_

Data:

_"4 exchanges of one piece of paper through a crack in a standing stone resulted in communication with a person with artistic ability, possible archer from clan Fraser. One piece of paper used. Thrown by myself as a crumbled ball twice; sent by other person via arrow (once) and rock (once.) Given the relatively short turn-around time, it is likely the gentleman is within the area of the standing stones."_

Conclusion:

_"It is highly probable that the cleft stone is a portal between periods in time and capable of receiving and delivering items. Additional research will determine if the thesis is plausible if/when other papers are received. If the given name of the sender can be confirmed in historical documents the hypothesis will likely be confirmed.”_

As Claire approached the parking lot at the entrance of the park, merely a few blocks from the store where Uncle Lambert and Dr. Joe were waiting for her, she was prepared to share her findings.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters will focus on Claire while we take a break from passing the sketch. After that we'll get back to Jamie and Murtagh in town. :-)

The store where Joe and Lamb had stopped, down a side street from the main area of tourist traps, projected a museum-esque vibe. It was a small stone building with an arched entryway, iron-hinged wooden doors, large windows, and the name of the store hanging from a sign above the entryway: 

THEN AND NOW  
ITEMS OF DISTINCTION

It’s vibe clearly resonated with Lamb, and Joe, so they escaped the heat in it’s dark, cool interior. 

A man in a red tang jacket with gold brocade and black tailored trousers turned from placing an item on a shelf behind the counter to greet them.

“Welcome” he said, coming around to the front.

“Thank you” Joe said. “My name Dr. Joe Abernathy. This is my friend Dr. Lambert Beauchamp.” 

“My name is Yi Tien Cho. I am the owner. How may I assist you?”

As Lamb and Joe’s eyes began adjusting to being in the dark from the scorching July day, they took in how true to a museum the store was. It’s polished cement floor, focused lighting, and precisely showcased items, in both the area they were in and another room to the right, showed how seriously the owner took aesthetics.

“Well…” Joe said, eyeing the vintage Coca-Cola machine along the back wall, “we’ll take 3 of those.”

“Ah. It is very hot outside, yes” Yi Tien Cho said, smiling. “Each is one dollar. This takes coins - American Quarters, Nickels and Dimes.”

The soda machine had a gleaming white exterior that beckoned them with its iconic red _“Drink Coca-Cola”_ insignia. A long, narrow glass door on the left of the machine opened to a row of enticingly cold bottles. To the right of the door was a coin slot, a bottle opener in a recessed well, and a return change bin. The raised image of a Coke bottle dripping with condensation, on what remained of the front, was all it took.

“Awesome” Lamb said, remembering that he needed to text Claire. He and Joe then began fishing about in their pockets for change when Yi Tien Cho asked if they were expecting someone else.

“Yes…” Lamb said as he pulled out what he had in his pocket “my niece. She’ll be here shortly.” Joe added to it from what he had to make sure there was $3. 

“Beautiful piece” Joe said. “I remember these very well.”

“Many of my customers feel the same. They tell me stories of their childhood going to movies, or laundromats, or bowling alleys. They always smile.”

Lamb put in 4 quarters, pulled the door open, and slid out the first bottle. He lifted the cap off with the bottle opener in the machine rather than the pocket one he always carried. It was just too fulfilling to pass up.

He handed it to Joe who refused to take it.

“Dude. Seriously? I want to get my own. Haven’t done this in 50 years.”

Laughing, Lamb dramatically moved away. “Have at it, pal.”

Moving in front of the machine, Joe opened his hand for Lamb to put a dollar into. Pulling out a bottle of his own, and flipping the cap off in the opener, he glugged half of it down. “I forgot how good this was. All I ever hear anymore is water,water,water, or now kombucha. Nothing beats a Coke.”

At that, they clinked bottles.

Claire, peering in the front window to see if Joe and her Uncle were there, saw them and waved. Opening the door she was surprised at how cool it was inside the store. 

“Ahhhhh” she said closing her eyes and taking in the cold air. After hugging her Uncle and Joe, Yi Tien Cho introduced himself.

“It is my pleasure to meet you. I am the owner, Yi Tien Cho” he said.

“I’m Claire. Your store is beautiful!”

“You are very kind.”

Lamb put his hand out with the remaining dollar to Claire.“Have one” he said, motioning to the Coke machine, “It’ll take the heat off.”

Smiling, Claire picked up the remaining coins, dropping them into the coin slot.

“Ooooh! Fresca! I haven’t had one in so long.”

Smiling at the joy the machine always brought to his customers, Yi Tien Cho told them it’s backstory:

“5 years ago a customer came into my store wanting to purchase a Chinese vase I had recently brought back from a trip to China. He was not able to afford it. I asked if he had anything to trade. He was very surprised. ‘You will barter for the vase?’ he asked. ‘Yes. I see how greatly you want it. Maybe, in return, you have an item I would want.’ The man owned a business that restored older items, such as toys, candy dispensers, vehicles, and soda machines.”

“So you got this for the vase?” Claire asked, nearly half done with her soda.

“Yes. I will never sell it. It is a piece that begins conversations and leads to happy memories.”

“Is most of your other stock acquired through your travels, then?” Lamb asked, noticing an 18th century Roman mosaic ring in a display case.

“Yes. And No.”

At this, all three looked to him.

“Allow me to explain.”


	11. Chapter 11

“I am a businessman first. The income my wife and I generate from the store helps to support us and our 5 children. But I am also a human being. Much that you see here was brought in by local residents, tourists, and….travelers who needed money. They would sell items they owned, or even found such as jewelry, heirlooms," he said motioning to the ring "and artifacts. Other items are, as you rightly surmised, from travels to my native China.”

“The ring is 19th century tesserae?” Lamb noted.

“Yes. You are an historian?” Yi Tien Cho asked.

“Egyptian Dynasties mostly. Joe’s area is Scotland.” 

Taking advantage of the break in conversation, Claire removed her backpack and laid it on the counter. “I’ve just come from the standing stones. I spent the morning there drawing and…well, I was just drawing.” 

Yi Tien Cho moved behind the counter, a very serious look on his face.

Opening her backpack, Claire tenderly pulled out the arrow and time-worn sketch, laying it for them to see.

“Based on my observations this is an 18th century arrow – ash wood. 70 cm in length. The binding is flax and the fletching is hawk. Animal bone arrowhead. Probably used with a short bow for rabbits and other little critters. Oh…and it came to me through the standing stone with this sketch I sent through myself.”

She looked at her Uncle and Joe: “Sorry. Didn’t mean to blindside you, but that’s what happened.”

Yi Tien Cho looked earnestly at Claire. “You say this came with _correspondence?_ ”

Unfolding the sketch, Claire explained it’s recent journey.

The ensuing shock caused a rather prolonged silence.

“Claire, it is simply not possible that items can travel through stones. You have to know this” Joe added.

“AND YET- I have spent today doing just that.”

“There is much to discuss, and it is my lunchtime. I would be pleased if you joined me” Yi Tien Cho quietly said. He locked the front door and changed the sign from “Open” to “I will return shortly.”

He waved his hand toward the back of the store where there was a staircase. As all four ascended they were met by a beautiful woman in a fitted black silk dress and red brocade ballet flats. Turning to his guests, Yi Tien Cho warmly introduced her: “This is my wife, Ming Ru.” 

She smiled and extended her hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

The area was clearly their home. It was the entire top floor of the store and was comprised of a spacious kitchen, dining room, and lounge, the corner of which was an office. The bedrooms were presumably reached by a prominent spiral staircase off of the kitchen. 3 children were already seated at a table where a large tureen sat. 

“These are our children,” Ming Ru began: “Our daughter Qianru, our son Chenglei, and our daughter Hualing.” 

They each stood up when they had been introduced.

Yi Tien Cho then introduced his guests: “This is Dr. Abernathy, Dr. Beauchamp, and Dr. Beauchamp’s niece Claire. I have invited them to dine with us.” Ushering them to the table, Ming Ru asked if they were visiting the area.

Claire replied quickly, worried about the impact her story had just created: “Temporarily, you could say. I’m on break from studies in London. Uncle Lambert teaches there. We’re here poking around for the summer with Dr. Abernathy.” 

“Well, I’m happy to have such captivating guests” Ming Ru said, smiling. 

Claire, who hadn’t eaten in several hours, was quick to remark about the meal: “Whatever you have made smells heavenly! I hope we’re not intruding.” 

“Absolutely not. We always enjoy company. I hope you enjoy wonton soup?”

"Without question!"

As the men joined them, Ming Ru motioned towards a chair at the table for Claire. 

“So, what’s going on” Lamb asked, taking a seat beside Claire. “Is the arrow worth a fortune, or…”

“We will eat first. Then business.” Yi Tien Cho said somewhat scoldingly. 

“I’ve forgotten my manners. Please forgive me.” Lamb said.

Yi Tien Cho served from the tureen into bowls that were passed to everyone, then served himself last. He did the same, but into small cups, from a pot of tea.

Lunch was quiet but genial. The children, Claire noticed, were about 16, 13, and 11. Seeing that Claire had exchanged smiles with them, Yi Tien Cho spoke: “Our other 2 children are studying Chinese medicine at Beijing University.”

“You’re acquainted with this yourself, I assume? I noticed the patient table in your office” Joe said. “I am” Yi Tien Cho said, smiling. "You are as well?" “Got acupuncture a few years ago.” Joe remarked. “It really helped me. Very glad to have found it.”

“How long have you practiced?” Claire asked as she took a refill of tea.

“About 20 years.”

“I want to learn too.” 16 year old Qianru said.

“That’s wonderful,” Claire said. “What are you studying in school?”

“I learn a great many things from my Mother and Father.”

“Homeschool?” Claire asked.

“Yes, we are all homeschooled.”

“We teach our children ourselves to ensure an education of integrity, and love” Yi Tien Cho said. 

Claire lovingly looked at her Uncle, his dedication these many years evident in the quick, intelligent mind she had and her zeal for history. “I’ve learned a great many things from my Uncle as well. I’ll forever be indebted to him.”

Lamb leaned over and kissed Claire on her cheek, and remarked how blessed he is to be able to work with her. “She’s the best business partner and field aid I’ve ever had.”

“My brother wants to be a teacher and my sister wants to be an artist” Qianru continued, excited to speak to the guests.

" Hualing," Claire asked, motioning to a wall in the lounge, “Did you do the paintings that are hanging there?” 

“I did! All three of them. My mother rendered the 2 on the other wall.”

“And what type of teaching would you like to do Chenglei?”

“ESL for Chinese students.”

“Your parents should be extremely proud of all of you. Wonderful professions!” Claire enthused.

A trio of smiles greeted her.

“Though we ensure our business is managed, teaching our children has been our priority.”

Taking that as the cue that lunch was over, the children began clearing the dishes from the table while Yi Tien Cho and his wife moved the tureen. Afterward, Claire commented to Ming Ru, while the gentlemen were talking, that the lunch was the best she’d had in a long time. 

“I am happy to hear that. It’s definitely not traditional Scottish fare!” 

“What brought you to Scotland?” 

“We wanted the children to experience as much of the world as possible. Yi Tien and I met while at Beijing University, in a class on Medieval European History. We were fascinated, and decided we wanted to move here one day.” 

Excusing herself from her conversation with Claire, Ming Ru spoke to the children who then retrieved an antique chess board from a cabinet and began playing.

“We can resume our conversation now” Yi Tien Cho said, moving towards the stairs.

Once they had returned to the store, Yi Tien Cho placed the door sign to “Open” and unlocked the door. At the counter he picked up the arrow and sketch and took it to the adjacent room as the others followed him.


	12. Chapter 12

The room was brighter than the other, due to transom windows along the top of the facing wall, and just as interesting. There were two square glass cases in the middle of the room, about waist high, additional display cases around the perimeter, floating shelves, and in two corners were suits of armor. A second counter, along the back wall, was flanked by posters of historical or dynastic periods and had inside it a few dozen reference books.

Putting on his glasses from a case near the register, Yi Tien Cho then pulled out a thin, black cotton sheet from underneath the counter, much like a jeweler uses when displaying an expensive bracelet or ring to a potential buyer. He placed it over the top of a display case near the front window to utilize the afternoon sun and give everyone the space to see, and then laid the arrow on top of it. He retrieved a magnifying glass as well.

Lamb, getting his own magnifying glass out of his pocket, began an initial exam.

Claire pulled out the rock and twine from her backpack and laid them beside the arrow. “As I mentioned, the first ‘delivery’ probably came by this arrow. Right here is the hole. This little wad was on the arrowhead tip.” Flattening it out, despite how small it was, showed how perfectly it fit into the hole. “And the second time” Claire said, looking up at the group, “the sketch came via this rock, tied with twine.”

Ming Ru went behind the counter, gathered a small set of keys, and opened a display case on the wall. She brought 2 arrows from it to the makeshift operating table. 

“The twine with the rock is the same as that on the arrow” Lamb said. “Both are made of flax; you’re right on that, Claire” he noted after having unraveled a small portion from the arrow. “The arrowhead, which is tanged, was clearly carved as were the grooves for the 4 fletchings.”

“This arrow has hardly any wear or age. It is as if it was just recently made” Yi Tien Cho said. “The wood is still somewhat green and pliable, indicating new wood, which grows primarily in spring.” He pulled the arrowhead closer to his magnifying glass. “A few strands of animal hair are stuck to the notches in the arrowhead. Rabbit.”

“Bows ‘bogha’ and arrows ‘saighead’ were carried by Clansman along with broadswords and something smaller in their belt, like a dagger or sgian dubh” Joe added. The Highland Games have reintroduced archery, by the way.” He rubbed his chin. “There are a few stores on the main street that carry period bows and arrows. How can you be sure this is authentic and not one of the store’s wares that was just dropped on the ground?”

Lamb interjected: “I read a book about a part of the mind called the adaptive unconscious.* In the opening, staff of a prominent museum were contacted by a representative of someone who owned a kouros; a marble statue of a young man which typically dates to around the 6th century, BC. The museum staff were excited to have this in their collection so arranged to have it on loan. They had someone perform tests and examinations, with their conclusion being that it was authentic, so the museum bought it. Initially, though, two of those who first examined it weren’t convinced. Their first reaction, gut instinct, was that something was off but they couldn’t immediately identify what. It ‘looked’ like the real thing. Being so excited to have it in their collection caused the staff to override mental warnings, and it was ultimately found to be a fake.

The adaptive unconscious is, basically, your gut instincts; it is a quick, unconscious strategy to help us understand. Mine, on the other hand, immediately screamed authentic when I saw this arrow, though I’m trying to convince myself it isn’t. Through the countless artifacts I’ve found and reviewed, my gut has never been wrong despite whatever else I might think.”

Ming Ru heartily agreed: “Very well put Dr. Beauchamp. I felt the same. It’s the integrity and color of the flax cord, what’s on the arrow and what came with the rock, and the bone arrowhead. In one of my graduate classes on Chinese antiquities, we examined the grip wrapping on Chinese swords – specifically the material used for the knotwork; nylon versus silk. Identifying one from the other was critical to knowing which was modern and which was hundreds of years old.”

Ming Ru laid the arrow against the ones she got from the case.

“This one is almost identical to the ones that I got from our display case that were, surprisingly, found almost in the same spot. Despite yours being somewhat smaller, for smaller game, they’re nearly copies. See the arrowhead? Same chipping. All the shafts are made of Ash. All were bound with flax. And all were determined to be from new wood.”

Lamb turned towards his friend Joe and asked him: “You’ve told us about the men. What about the stones?”

Joe thought for a few minutes, his jaw clenched.

“There is oral history about the stone being a portal. For centuries disappearances were attributed to fairies, or fae. But this COULD be hard enough evidence that the oral history has some validity. As for the arrows… things may be leaving from here AND there – wherever there is.”

Claire sighed. “I have pretty irrefutable evidence that a sketch I created passed through a stone 4 times. The recipient left their name and a likeness of themselves dressed in traditional Scottish attire – not shorts, joggers, or trousers. They didn’t leave a phone number or address, nor ask for mine. Who, in modern time, doesn’t give a cell number or social media? I saw the sketches vanish. With the first receipt I found this arrow on the ground near the stone, the 2nd time it was tied to a rock. There was no one nearby because I checked. It wasn’t typed and no vernacular was used. The note was in formal English, written with what appears to be a rough lead stick; you know, the things they used BEFORE PENCILS. There’s no hole in the stone and the sketch wasn’t blowing away. I am communicating, best guess, with a man in the 18th century. What other explanation could there be?”

“Ok,” Joe said. “So we have things” At this, he looked around at the group “but no eyewitnesses or ‘travelers.’ We have no more than a…” he looked respectfully at Claire “theory.”

Yi Tien Cho and Ming Ru glanced quickly at each other, but said nothing.

Noticing the glance that passed between them, Joe pointedly asked: “Travelers. You’ve used this phrase. Care to elaborate?” 

Yi Tien Cho answered carefully: “If I am to believe what several customers have told me, then yes, there are these ‘travelers.’ They often asked about places, buildings, that don’t exist any longer. Moreover, they were ‘traditionally’ attired as Claire put it. They were undoubtedly fearful of divulging what they suspected had happened to them, and I did not want to intrude into their life by asking. So, it’s a guess.”

“The items here came from them?” Lamb asked.

“Some, yes.”

“Claire” Yi Tien Cho softly said. “Do you want an opinion on the authenticity of the arrow, or did you want to sell it?”

Claire’s heart seized up at the thought of losing it, or worse, trading it for money.

“No, I would never sell this. I…” She was caressing the words Jamie wrote on the paper while imagining him sitting in the grass writing them. 

“We’ll keep it” Lamb said, noticing the change in Claire’s demeanor, “since we’re relatively sure it’s authentic.”

Claire lightly caressed the arrow and sketch, then wandered off to a display case in the other room. 

The concern in both men’s faces at Claire’s reaction brought Lamb to confess: “She’s still reeling a little from a break-up. Guy was a heathen. I hoped this trip would help to…”

“I CAN HEAR YOU” came a voice from the adjacent room. Walking back in Claire quickly replied: “Yea, Frank was a skirt-chaser and a liar. So that makes me some emotional wreck that’s now in love with a…” she picked the sketch up and waved it at the men “ghost?” 

“Claire, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.” Lamb said, to soothe her.

The tears fell heavy now, and Claire hung her head.

Ming Ru came to her side, rubbed her back and lead her to the stairs. “There’s still some tea left, my dear. Let’s go have another cup.”

Walking up the stairs, Claire apologized for her implosion: “Oh my gosh. I am SO sorry. I have NO idea where that came from. Goodness. I just….wow.”

“You do not need to apologize at all.”

As they entered the lounge, Chenglei ran to his mother. “I have won, Mother! I bested Hualing…”

At seeing Claire’s distress, he stopped what he was saying to comfort her, his eyes wide with concern.

“Are you unwell, Miss Claire? Please, come sit down. Mother, may we pour her a cup of tea ?” he whispered.

“Yes, that is kind of you.”

Qianru brought a cup for her Mother and one for Claire, while Chenglei brought a small plate of shortbread. Qianru sat beside Claire on the sofa, and hugged her. “ I hope you are feeling better very soon, Miss Claire.”

“Thank you” Claire said, trying to smile, “you and your siblings are very sweet.”

“We will leave you to be alone. Please let us know if we may help” Chenglei said. The children went to the dining room to begin another game of chess.

Claire then looked at Ming Ru: “Your children are amazing. Beautiful hearts. I hope one day I’ll have some too.”

“Thank you. They are precious to us, and we have ensured they have our complete devotion.”

With a shaking hand, Claire quickly drank the tea and sat the cup back in the saucer. “My ex was a waste of time. Thought money and buying me things made up for the affairs and emotional abuse. I just dumped him.”

“I am so sorry” Ming Ru said, taking Claire’s hand. “Happiness will come to you. Have faith.”

“I don’t know why that little note..his name is Jamie…touched me. It was so kind, respectful…things I’ve missed” Claire said, welling up again. “Oh my GOSH. It’s like the Niagra falls. I am so sorry!”

Ming Ru couldn’t help but laugh. She handed Claire a few tissues. 

“Frank, my ex, didn’t care for my art. Thought it was a useless endeavor that would never get me anywhere. I’m a bio-chemical engineer, transforming simple things into other, more usable things. But no amount of alchemy, in our relationship, ever produced anything other than dross.”

“Will you write again, to Jamie?” Ming Ru asked, hoping to remind Claire of something that made her happy.

“May I borrow a hand mirror?” Claire asked, a smile spreading across her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * "Blink" by Malcolm Gladwell.


	13. Chapter 13

A marriage to Laoghaire was hardly a consideration at the moment, thankfully; in its place was the disappearance of an arrow, a piece of parchment and, unknown to Murtagh, a rock. Riding quietly along the road, the light had moved from the grays and blacks of evening a few hours ago to morning’s hues of blues and reds.

Murtagh’s countenance had become noticeably downcast, a change from the disbelief and surprise at the start of their ride. Although Jamie was comfortable with contemplation, his own or another’s, he needed to break the silence.

“Do ye think the fae took it? Mam often said the stones…”

Murtagh shrugged. “I canna tell. Best to not be blabbing about it when we get to town, aye?”

Jamie knew that Murtagh’s clipped response meant he hadn’t figured it out yet and didn’t want to discuss it any further, nor want Jamie to either. 

Arriving in town the men found a livery stable for the horses. Remembering the bustling tavern they’d seen as they arrived - a sure sign of good food and drink – Murtagh and Jamie decided the day would go smoother on full stomachs. And besides, the time since they’d roasted the rabbits they’d caught for breakfast had long since passed.

Though only mid-morning, the temperature was inching up. In true Scottish form it would be sure to rain, making it doubly miserable. 

As they tore into their stew, Murtagh thought about how to gather everything they came for. He had committed Ellen’s list to memory rather than carry, and eventually lose, something written down so he divided the items into categories to make as few stops as possible. 

“I hadn’t asked ye yet. What is it we’re here for?” 

“Well, yer Mam wants 2 pairs of gloves, herbs, ribbon and lace, French soap, oil, thread, cloth, and buttons.”

“Mam wants a lot” Jamie said absentmindedly, picking at his stew.

“Aye” Mutagh said, smiling.

“What does Da want?”

“Tobacco and a new pipe.”

“Hmmm.”

“If this doesna show the difference between men and women, I don’t know what does” Murtagh sighed. 

“We’ll make our way to the apothecary first,” he said scooping the last of the stew from his bowl, “because your Mam needs the most from there.”

“What time can we be on our way back to the stones…I mean getting on our way?” Jamie asked.

“I’ve secured a room here for the night. We dinna need to get everything at once. It’ll give the horses a rest as well.”

“Oh.”

The long strips of retailers and merchants made a busy thorofare; horses, wagons, and townspeople, along with street vendors, made for unwieldy congestion. Jamie enjoyed the hustle and bustle but Murtagh, a simple and quiet man, was annoyed.

Thankfully the apothecary was directly across from the tavern, sat 5th in a row of businesses on that side and situated between the haberdasher and milliner. This afforded the men a quick retreat from the noise and smell; 18th century streets were not only littered with people but with manure as well. 21st-century cities traded the foul-smelling street waste with air pollution from gas-powered vehicles but, either way, horses remained a principal contributor to pollution whether by droppings or power.

Inside the apothecary, the store’s smell reminded Murtagh of the fields surrounding Lallybroch; grass, water, roses and dirt. He thought that would be a grand perfume for a woman, but before he could explore the idea any further the owner asked what they wanted.

“Oh. Aye. The Mistress would like Carrageen Irish moss, Dulse Seaweed, St. John’s Wart, Meadow Sweet, Bitter Vetch, Carduus Benedictus, Archangel, Milk Thistle, and Clove Oil.”

Turning around to the canisters behind him, he pulled several down and scooped the contents into pouches. Coming from behind the counter, he pulled canisters down from one wall and filled the last 2 pouches and then poured the vial of clove oil.

“Anything else?” the proprietor asked. 

“She asked for French-milled soap.”

“Any particular fragrance?” 

“Err…”

The one thing he should have written down, he didn’t.

“Mam likes eucalyptus and peony.”

Relieved that Jamie knew, Murtagh ordered some of each.

Jamie picked up different soaps that were displayed in buckets, smelling each one. The pink-tinged one, with the beautiful petals in it, was clearly rose - a smell that reminded him of his gran. The yellow one, strongly citrus, intrigued him. They didn’t often have oranges or lemons but he remembered that the smell was clean and fresh. The brownish one, though, with notes of myrrh and nutmeg changed everything.

He picked up 5 bars and smacked them on the counter.

“What’re ye doin’? I just got her some.”

“These are for me. I’m tired of smelling like lavender. ‘tis the only soap we ever seem to have. It makes my wame sick. I have my own money, mind.”

Murtagh shrugged and added Ellen’s things to his sporran. 

Standing outside the apothecary, a dreary cast – which threatened rain - had overtaken the sky. 

“Rain, manure, and crowds. Quite near a nightmare combination.”

“Dinna be too down. It’ll be nice to sleep on something other than the ground tonight, aye?”

Murtagh’s grumbled agreement tickled Jamie. For as sour as his temperament often was, his Godfather’s heart was generally sweet.

“Why don’t ye go check on the horses. I have a few other things to do.” With that, Murtagh wandered off.

The livery was near enough that Jamie didn’t have far to walk. Blueskin and Nelson were both content in their stalls, eating hay and alfalfa, and barely acknowledged Jamie was there. He found a stool and sat down near them.

The sketch, and traveling, kept Jamie distracted from what waited him at home. But now, in the stable and sat alone on a stool, it had the stage to itself.

Jamie wanted to be married and he very much wanted children. Just not with Laoghaire. That she said having bairns was “ a nuisance, and a ravage to my figure” is what settled his mind against a life with her; he believed children were a blessing and he wanted several. She derided his interests and joys in life too - reading, writing, and art: “That folly wilna pay bills. Ye need to tend land and keep a store of cattle and sheep for food and wool for clothing. I’ll no be laughed at as the wife of a lazy fool.” In fact, he was educated and kind and determined to be an ample provider.

That neither she nor he had any other prospects is probably why the marriage was being discussed. He didn’t want to let his parents down, nor live at home the rest of his life, but there wasn’t any other alternative but to go through with it. Overwhelmed with the misery that awaited him with the proposed union, Jamie got up and went back into town. 

Looking up at the evening sky, he saw the steeple of a chapel a few streets away. He walked in the misty dusk until he was standing at the chapel doors. Opening them quietly, unsure if there was service, he let himself in and sat in a pew in the back. A priest wasn’t present so the chapel must have been open for people to come in to pray or contemplate. A few walked past Jamie on their way out, allowing him to see his Godfather sitting in the front, his shoulders hunched over in burden, his head clearly bowed in prayer.

Jamie’s heart began to break.

He prayed quietly. “Father, he has been my best friend, protector, mentor, …I couldna live without him and I thank ye for his devotion. I dinna know what weighs on him but I pray you grant him his requests and give him peace. In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.”

Murtagh got up and went to the front to light 2 candles, one for Ellen and one for Jamie, then left through a side door.

Wanting to catch up to Murtagh, but not let him know he had been seen, Jamie waited a few minutes then paused to light a few candles of his own - one for Murtagh, that he have peace, and one for whoever was out there bringing hope into his life. He then left by the same side door. He maneuvered over a street so as to catch Murtagh on the main street rather than coming up behind him.

“Aye. The horses are well.”

“Canna get much else done today. Let’s get yer Da’s pipe and tobacco then be to our room.”

At the Tobacconist, the sweet and tangy smell of tobacco revived them both. A back room full of smoke was buzzing with conversation as men were enjoying an evening to themselves. A small, burning hearth at the front, with two leather chairs in front of it, had the names Jamie and Murtagh written all over them. Murtagh approached the glass counter, which was full of wood and silver snuff boxes, and the owner asked how he could help.

“Tobacco, please. ”

“Would ye be wantin’ rolling or pipe tobacco?” 

“Pipe. And 2 pipes.”

“How many plugs?”

“7”

Intrigued by the laughter in the back room, Murtagh made another request.

“Might ye have scotch?”

“Are ye no in Scotland, man?”

“Aye. And two of those.”

Murtagh sat down beside Jamie, pulled the footrest close to him, and propped his feet by the fire. The shopkeep brought 2 mugs, but also a bottle of scotch, 10 plugs and 2 spills*, and placed them on the table between the chairs. “Compliments of the house.” He handed a pipe to Murtagh and one to Jamie.

“Let me know if ye be needin’ anything else.”

Murtagh put the new one in his sporran for Brian along with the plug tobacco, keeping out one to use, and took out his own pipe which he carried everywhere. 

Jamie looked curiously at his Godfather.

“About time ye had yer own pipe, aye?”

“Aye! Thank ye.”

The men sat by the fire in quiet for the next few hours; the rain – now coming in sheets – of no immediate consequence as they sat by the warmth of the hearth with a mug of scotch.

Jamie’s thoughts wandered to the stones, and whether there would be anything there on his return. Whoever was out there, taking time to talk with him, had brought him comfort. “We’re of the same mind, I feel.” Taking long, slow draws from his pipe, he thought what the next message would be. He’d not be able to convince Murtagh to stay at the stones longer than necessary, so would it mean saying goodbye to them? 

Murtagh’s thoughts were on Jamie. “The lad’s resigned himself to the marriage. I can see it. I canna disrespect Brian and Ellen’s wishes that I help him come to accept it. That’s what they sent me to do, and he’s their son, but I wilna support this any longer. I need to convince them to call this off.”

Jamie’s rumbling stomach an hour later broke the quiet, signaling it was time to return to the tavern for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Before matches or lighters, a thin piece of wood – a spill – was set on fire to light the tobacco.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter coming on Sunday!

A short break in the storm was enough to give Jamie and Murtagh time to dash to the tavern without getting soaked. There were as many people for dinner as there was for lunch but they got the last table. Dinner was roast lamb and vegetables, which they both shoveled in, so they could get to bed. 

Their room was small: a dresser, a table, and 2 beds. The dresser held a pitcher of water and a basin, soap, and towels. The beds, situated under eaves, were going to cause problems for the two men who both stood over 6 feet tall. 

Lighting the candles that were beside the towels on the dresser, they took off their boots and jackets and washed up in the basin. 

“Mind getting up and down in bed that you don’t bang your heid” Murtagh felt compelled to tell Jamie. Parenting instincts never left no matter how old the child had become. 

The beds, like Jamie said, were more comfortable than ground. “The kid was right. I canna sleep outdoors like I used to” Murtagh thought to himself as he drifted off.

“We just have to get Mam’s material and things in the morning? That’s it?” came Jamie’s voice in the dark.

“Aye.”

“I saw the haberdasher as we left the apothecary. Should be able to get everything there I gather.”

“Aye.”

“What kind of buttons should we get?”

“What’s on yer mind, son?”

“Why do ye ask?”

“Ye babble like a brook when yer hiding something. Always did.”

“I dinna do that yer just being cantankerous I have a lot of questions is all and laying down just stirs it all up and it’s nary a bother talking rather than having it rattle about my heid all night long.”

“Out with it.”

“I’ve been writing on the parchment we shot at and sent it through a second time tied to a rock when ye walked toward the road.”

Murtagh sat right up and clipped his head on the eave. “Blasted ceiling!”

“Are ye not the one who told me to mind moving up and down so as not to bang my heid?” Jamie said.

The sigh that came out of Murtagh was the longest Jamie had ever heard from him.

“Son” Murtagh slowly said “you sent something through the stone a 2nd time? Tied to a rock?”

“Aye.”

“Oh, now you’re at a loss for words?”

“Well, I got it out so I kind of feel better.”

“Would ye tell me what’s going on?”

“When we first got there and I went to sit at the stones, a piece of parchment rolled past my leg. I picked it up and saw a drawing of the stones. I got my drawing sticks out and added to it, signing my initials like Mam does on her paintings, and put it in my boot. Then when we were shooting arrows I shoved it in the cleft which…” 

“I remember.”

“…oh. aye. then when we parted, and you were walking to the road, I saw it on the ground on the other side. Whoever had drawn the original sketch added some more to what I did. ‘tis funny what they added. A squirrel hanging upside down from a branch holding a piece of slate that had ‘CEB’ written on it.”

“ A squirrel…”

“Aye”

“Upside down holding slate”

“Are ye confused? Should I start again?”

“GO ON.”

“I drew a likeness of myself on it, wrote a short note, and signed my full name. Tied it to a rock. Then threw it at the stone and it vanished.”

“This is why yer so anxious to get back.”

“I dinna ken what’s happening but maybe the person on the other side is lonely, like me, and sits at the stone drawing.”

“Fae are tricky. Canna say what they’re up to.”

“Maybe they’re helping me.”

The hope in Jamie’s voice was unmistakable, and Murtagh didn’t want to discourage him. He also didn’t know if he could actually disagree with him. He sat there for a few minutes on the edge of his bed, the moon’s light filtering in through the sheer curtains on the window. 

“I dinna know that you should be putting yer hope in this.”

Jamie’s silence, which just a few minutes ago was something Murtagh wanted, now was painful to hear.

“I’m sorry, son. I didna mean to upset ye.”

Murtagh went to the dresser and got the bottle of whiskey they brought back from the tobacconist. He handed it to Jamie, who took a drink, then he took one himself and sat it back on the dresser.

“Ye didna hurt my feelings. I know this isna something to stake my future on. I have no clue who it is, or where they are, but I feel a connection to them. I dinna want to be unhappy, but I dinna want to disrespect Mam and Da either. I’ve never had a reason to distrust their decisions for me.”

“Maybe now that we’ve all had time away from this, we can talk some more when we get back before anything formal is decided.”

“Aye. I’d like that.”

“Goodnight, Son.”

As Jamie began to fall asleep, out of exhaustion but also due to the relief from confession, he thought about what might be there to greet him at the stones and what he’d say in reply. Did they mind his note? Will they draw any more? What did CEB stand for? Would they tell him?


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sneaking this in a little early due to a change in plans. 
> 
> I thought posting this for Father's Day, rather than later as I intended, would work better and ease everyone’s mind regarding Jamie's future. 
> 
> Also, this story diverges from canon in that Willie is the youngest.
> 
> Enjoy. ;-)

Lallybroch

Ellen was sat at a chair in the kitchen, watching the pot of soup, loaves of bread, and pie warm by the fire when Brian came in from the field.

“About time for the first cut of hay, right when Murtagh and Jamie get back” he said, going over to the hearth to see what was to eat. “Will need to get the calves weaned soon too.”

He kissed Ellen on the cheek, and went to wash up in the sink.

Her face was still, and she didn’t look at him.

“Yer day go alright?” he asked while scrubbing his hands.

“Aye.”

As they ate dinner, Ellen was still quiet.

“Mam, I’ve finished. Is there pie tonight?” Jenny asked.

“Aye, hon. Make plates for everyone.”

“Is it strawberry Mam? I dinna like it so much.” Willie said.

“It’s blackberry. Still care for a piece?” 

“Oh, aye. Please.”

After an unusually somber dinner, Brian asked Jenny and Willie to go to their rooms. Ellen was evidently upset about something and he wanted to talk to her before bed. Instead, she followed the children upstairs.

In their room, Ellen began to undo her plait and looked in her vanity mirror. Brian came to sit beside her on the small chaise.

“Care to talk Mrs. Fraser?” he said, putting his cheek on her shoulder and meeting her eyes in the mirror.

She smiled.

“I dinna like how we left things with Jamie. All the arguing and fussing did nothing but create strife.”

“I agree. Has weighed on my heart too.” 

“We canna go through with this.” Ellen blurted.

Brian took over undoing her braid.

“I’ve no said anything these few years while lass after lass has come and gone. Always one excuse after another for why he didn’t want to wed them.”

Ellen kept her head down.

“He’ll never take any woman was my worry, which is why I stepped in and made the decision for him. Otherwise it would have just been another excuse.”

He admired her beautiful hair, and gently pulled at the remaining braid.

“I did what I felt was the right thing to do as a Father. Ye ken as well as I do that children don’t always know what’s best for them, even though they think they do. Thought Murtagh could talk some sense into him was my thinking.”

Ellen turned around and faced Brian. He stroked her cheek.

“But maybe I didna make the best decision afterall. This week has helped to settle my mind a bit from the arguing, and to remember how sure you and I were in our love for each other. Jamie should be that sure as well, so I’m willing to put aside my will for his.”

Ellen’s smile returned. 

“We’ll still have Gordon to contend with” Brian went on. “ I’ve no said any more to him since before Jamie and Murtagh left.”

“But we’ll face it, aye?”

“Aye, milady.”

The next afternoon, about the time Brian was about to go back to the field after having lunch, Gordon Mackenzie visited.

Emily, their maid, had him wait in the sitting room while she fetched Brian. “Well, the time’s come” he whispered to Ellen before he left the kitchen.

“Good day to ye Gordon” Brian said as he strode into the sitting room. “May I offer ye a…”

“Good day. And no, but thank ye.”

“I apologize we haven’t moved forward. We..”

“’tis no matter. We’ve no made any formal arrangement, aye?”

“That’s true, Gordon…and”

“And nothing.” Gordon said, irritated. We’ve no heard from ye in weeks. We’re no waiting any longer and have accepted a proposal from Henry MacAlister’s son. I’m here to inform ye of such and to bid ye farewell.”

Gordon, gripping his cap in his hands, seemed to be waiting for Brian to let him go.

“Well, then, we wish Laogharie well.”

Brian moved to the front door and opened it.

Gordon nodded to Brian, then to Ellen who had come from the kitchen, and left.

Ellen, wiping her hands on her apron, sighed in relief. “We didn’t have to worry after all.”

Brian hugged her. “Now we’ll work to have peace in the house again.”


	16. Chapter 16

“ A bit like Normal Rockwell’s self-portrait don’t you think?” Claire asked Ming.

“You’re right!”

Claire had spent the past hour capturing herself. Ming had retrieved watercolors and brushes, drawing pencils, and a sketch pad. Claire set the paper up on an easel near a window to carefully, colorfully, render her self-portrait: she was looking directly into a jade and porcelain hand mirror, smiling, her hazel eyes playful and happy. She left room at the bottom for a note.

Right when she was helping Ming put the supplies back, she heard Yi Tien Cho, her Uncle, and Joe coming up the stairs. Lamb was not one to leave personal or business issues unfinished, so walked over to Claire.

“I’d like to apologize again.”

Claire nodded, so he pulled two chairs together.

“I’m sorry, dear, for sharing your situation and for hurting your feelings. It’s just been hanging there; neither of us have talked about it. I used an inopportune time to do that, and it was wrong of me.”

“You’re right. We haven’t talked about it. It was too embarrassing to discuss how miserable I was. But I ended it, and I learned, and it won’t happen again.”

Lamb took her hand. “I love you. As much and as often as you want to talk, I will always, always listen.”

Joe, Yi Tien Cho, and Ming Ru were watching over the children’s chess game, purposefully giving Lamb and Claire the privacy to talk. Hualing was closing in on Chenglei, and everyone could already see a sure win.

When she did, a chorus of applause greeted her. She smiled, stood up, and curtsied which caused everyone to laugh. Chenglei shook her hand and congratulated her.

“Well,” Lamb said, “we’ve taken up enough of your day. We should be leaving.”

Claire picked up her portrait as everyone went downstairs, and Ming Ru gave her a paper envelope to keep it in.

In the store below, Claire put the arrow and everything else in her backpack. The men shook hands, while Ming Ru hugged Claire.

“I am happy to have met you. Please come back to see us.”

“I absolutely will. You’ve been so kind.”

Yi Tien Cho came over to Claire and Ming Ru. “As my wife said, it has been an honor to meet you, your Uncle, and Dr. Abernathy.” He shook her hand, then gave her a small package. “It is a gift of herbs and teas. I apologize for the upset you experienced.”

Claire was so touched by their kindness it was hard not to tear up again. As she thanked him, Qianru came to her side. “Miss Claire, I will miss you. Please visit us again.” Qianru then put out her hand. Claire shook it, and replied “I will come to see you and your family often.” Chenglie and Hualing, coming to stand beside their sister, also shook her hand.

Once outside, they pondered what to do for the evening. “Well, I’m exhausted. Back home for me” Joe said, starting to walk off. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.” “Me too, honestly. Shall we go home too?” Lamb asked Claire. Arm-in-arm with her Uncle, they walked to the house they were renting for their stay.

That evening Claire laid in bed and thought what to write at the bottom of her portrait. She felt compelled to work on what to say right then, so found some paper in her portable desk and jotted some ideas, finally settling on:

"Jamie - I do like what you’ve done, and I enjoy hearing from you. My name is Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp."

When she took her portrait out of the envelope she saw that Ming Ru had included a paper wrapped charcoal pencil. Claire held it tenderly. “Thank you Ming Ru.” She wrote the note at the bottom then placed it back in the envelope. She rolled it up, secured it with string, then sat it on her table.

A night of fitful sleep caused Claire to wake up earlier than she normally did the next morning. “Maybe I should have looked at those teas” she muttered, grabbing her phone. It was 5:00 am. She got dressed then went over a couple blocks for a coffee, taking the portrait with her in her backpack. Sat in a booth by the front window with a breakfast sandwich and a large Italian roast, she noticed there was a bike rental station across the street. “I can not remember the last time I rode a bike. I’m intrigued.” She quickly finished breakfast and left.

It was a simple procedure: drop in a deposit, ride, bring it back, the deposit is returned.

The teal one matched Claire’s mood so she chose it. It also had a water bottle holder on the frame which was a perfect size for the rolled up portrait.

Claire loved the early morning because birdsong was at its most beautiful and the atmosphere was full of energy: stores would soon be opening, vendors were preparing food they would be feeding incoming tourists, and trucks were arriving with deliveries to be unloaded. Mornings seemed much like the joyful expectation one felt at, say, the ballet when, sat in the theater, you heard murmurings behind the curtain and the orchestra tuning up.

She arrived on main street, passing joggers, other bike riders, and people walking their dogs and maneuvered through them to where she could enter the park. What was a sharp, laborious incline yesterday as she left the standing stones now held the prospect for a spectacular descent. She purposely got herself going at a pretty fast clip then let off the pedals when she hit the top, lifting her legs in the air.

“Weeeeeeeeee!” she yelled into the cool, dewy morning, bumping along down to the bottom.

The feeling of freedom that came from a brakeless bike ride brought back memories from her childhood but also the resentment that such feelings of euphoria and lightheartedness seemed confined to youth. Why does life get so serious when we’re adults? Why does the magic of fairy tales go away?

Unbeknownst to Claire, fairies were flying along beside her, barrel-rolling through the chilly Scottish air, eager to take her portrait through the stone. Magic still existed, but most people stopped believing. Not Claire. Magic was still in her heart and this is why the fairies were helping her. And Jamie.

She pushed her bike to the cleft stone and contemplated what all of this meant. “Passing notes is fun and I’m just going to enjoy it while I can.”

Fueled by coffee and hope, she stepped back from the stone and pretended it was a batter and she was the pitcher. She wound up, threw it as close the cleft as possible, and watched it effortlessly disappear in what appeared to be a cloud of… _pixie dust_?

“STRIKE!”


	17. Chapter 17

Jamie woke first. The bustle of the street below roused him awake and filled him with excitement to begin the day.  He trod quietly to put his jacket and boots on then sat on his bed for a while looking down at the city that was coming alive.  Carts were bringing goods to shop owners conversing with each other on the street. When he would occasionally look over at his sleeping Godfather, memories of hunting and fishing, riding horses, and speaking Gàidhlig played like a movie flashback.

As Murtagh’s eyes opened, his first image was Jamie on his bed staring back at him.

 “I think the haberdasher is open.”

 Smiling at Jamie’s eagerness, he replied: “Aye, Son.  But do you no want to eat first?”

 “Sorry, Godfather. I was being selfish.  Of course we’ll eat first.”

After Murtagh washed and dressed, the men went downstairs to the tavern for breakfast:  Parritch, bacon and eggs, and coffee.  Jamie paid for the meal, as well as some supplies to eat on the road, and lead the way out of the tavern to the haberdasher.  They passed the milliner in whose window were gorgeous hats perched on hat domes; women’s hats with bows, feathers, and silk ribbons and men’s hats for riding and hunting.

When they entered the haberdashery, Jamie was captivated.  Bolts of beautiful fabric and ribbon were snugly tucked into tall cases, sometimes a dozen or more per row.  There were packages of men’s and ladies gloves on display tables, boxes of buttons on others, and hundreds of spools of thread in more colors than he imagined existed. A pang to set up his own home where his wife would have all of this overtook him.  He would make sure she had everything she wanted, in a room of her own, and that she enjoyed things made from materials as beautiful as what was sold here.  He ran his fingers over a bolt of cream-colored fabric that had criss-crossing vines of purple, red, green, and gold.  The owner, noticing that Jamie was favoring one of the most expensive materials in the store, immediately came to secure a sale.

 But Murtagh, behind the owner and in Jamie’s line of sight, was going to make sure that didn’t happen; he intended to express his concern just enough not to be a nuisance.

 The owner warmly greeted Jamie: “G’day to ye, Milord”

 “Aye. G’day to ye.”

 “Ye’ve got a keen eye!”

 “AND AN EMPTY PURSE” Murtagh showed Jamie his purse that was decidedly low in coins.

 “Thank ye.  What is this material?” 

 Murtagh rubbed his fingers together: “’TIS MADE OF MONEY.  THAT’S THE MATERIAL.”   
  
“Italian silk. The pattern is Florentine Scroll.  Make a fine bed set, or even a robe for milady.”

 “ITALIAN?!” Murtagh mouthed, throwing his hands in the air.

 Jamie had to steer the owner to a different position for if the three-way conversation were to continue he’d burst his buttons from laughing.

 “I’d like to take a yard with me. Add some tassled gold cord and a yard of purple velvet as well.”  
  
Murtagh, his words not producing the desired result, now grumbled his displeasure.

 “Of COURSE, milord. I commend you on your taste.”

 While the owner was taking down the bolts and removing them to another room to cut, Murtagh grabbed Jamie’s arm: “HAVE YE LOST YER MIND?”

 “No.” Jamie said, more confidently than Murtagh expected. “I feel hope for the first time.  I dinna know why. When the time comes to wed I want to have something nice to give the woman who will help me Laird. And this will make a fine silk purse.”

 “Aye, son.  It will.  Ye’ve thought well.” 

 While Jamie was settling the bill with the owner for what he bought, Murtagh went to gather what was left of Ellen’s list.  He set the gloves, spools of thread, lace and ribbon, a handful of buttons, and the white and yellow cloth she asked for on the counter. He gave instructions on yardage and the owner left to the back to cut again.  When he returned, he wrapped the items up and handed them to Murtagh without indicating cost. 

 “The purchase Milord made was a week’s wages to me.  It’d be unnecessarily greedy of me to take any more of your money.  I deeply appreciate your business and look forward to your future patronage.”

 Grateful, and stunned, Murtagh shook the owner’s hand.  “Thank ye kindly.  Good day to ye.”

 “And a good day to ye both as well.”

 Leaving the store, Murtagh began to walk towards the livery stable but Jamie stopped him.  “Father, can we stop at the papermaker?  ‘tis around the corner.  I’d like to get a few sheets.”

 Looking at his Godson seriously, Murtagh nodded then walked with Jamie.

 Though the store was small, it was well appointed. A woman behind the counter smiled as Jamie and Murtagh entered.

 “Pleased to meet ye.  What might ye be needin’?” 

 “10 sheets of writing paper.”

 “For business correspondence, or personal?”

 “Personal”

 “Ahhh.  We have some lovely sheets here” she walked to a nook in a case near the back of the store “with flower petals in them, and here” she said, pulling from another nook  “are deckled sheets in several colors.”

 Jamie pulled a few from different nooks, choosing first the ones with flower petals.

 “Do ye need wax or ink?”

 “No thank ye.  Just the paper.”

 The last errand ran, they left to retrieve the horses, transferring their parcels to the saddlebags, and made their way towards home. 

 The day was clear and unusually cool.  The previous night’s storm had swept away the heat and humidity and made today perfect for traveling.

 There was something cathartic about riding a horse, and both men were glad to be atop them again.  The rhythmic sway created by the horse’s gait, combined with fresh air, was a tonic for most affairs of the soul likely due to the amount of time one had for contemplation. Murtagh was considering how much Jamie had changed just from yesterday.  He seemed to have matured overnight. He even sat taller in his saddle.   He had an air of confidence, like he knew he wasn’t going to wed Laogharie for he certainly wouldn’t buy silk and velvet for her. 

 He next thought of Brian and Ellen. It was difficult to gauge how they would take his recalcitrance; he was asked to sway Jamie to a marriage to Laogharie, but he ended up defying their directive. 

 Without realizing how far they’d gone they were now within sight of the stones.  Jamie took off, prodding Blueskin into an outright gallop. Murtagh stayed back, wanting to give Jamie time alone, whether in sadness for the absence of a letter, or in joy at the presence of one.

When Murtagh finally arrived, seeing Jamie on his knees at the cleft stone, he slid off Nelson and ran down the slope.

 “Son – are ye well? What is it?”

 Clutching the portrait to his chest, Jamie didn’t immediately respond.  Murtagh kneeled down beside him, running his hand on Jamie’s back as he’d done so many times when the lad had been seized with fear or disappointment as a child.

 “It’s a lass” he smiled up at Murtagh,  “and her name is Claire.”

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate all of you who stop to read, comment, and leave kudos. :)

Jamie slowly pulled the portrait away from his chest.

The lass was a gifted artist, to be sure, Murtagh thought.  She’d captured herself in color quite remarkably. There was a playfulness in her eyes; their color reminded Murtagh of the còinnich that grew on rocks in a brook near Lallybroch; not quite green, nor wholly brown, but a combination of the two with a touch of sunlight.  It was a pleasure to see her smiling as well; it was unusual, if not outright unacceptable, to smile while sitting for a portrait in the current time.

“She’s a fine lass.” Murtagh patted Jamie’s arm then left to tend the horses, assured that his Godson was well.

Leading the horses to the stream, Murtagh could not but reason that it would be better to merely rest here rather than camp.  Yes, it was a good distance to the estate but dawdling here the next few days would put them gone for longer than he intended.

But the lad could have another riotous showdown when they got home, especially given his newly-found resolve, so a few days of respite might be the only ones he has for a while.

Murtagh was looking down at the ground, his hands behind his back, standing on the creek bank between the horses. Jamie approached and gathered a piece of paper from Blueskin’s saddlebag.  

“We’ll stay here a while then?” Murtagh said, turning towards Jamie. “Aye.  Please.  I’ll gather kindling for the fire.” 

Jamie found a beautiful spot in the woods, downstream from the horses, where the sun was filtering through the canopy.  He sat against a tree and put Claire’s portrait beside him. He opened his sporran, chose some graphite, then laid the rose petal paper on his lap.

 

_Dearest Claire,_

_I have just returned to the stones, after a few days in town, to find your portrait.  I’m grateful for having it, truly, for now I have a kind and beautiful face to pair with the wit and charm I’ve come to know._

_Presently I am sat in a wooded area, your portrait propped against a tender plant to my right. Tell me – do you like to read?  When did you begin to draw? Do you live in Scotland?_

_Looking forward to your reply, I remain,_

_Affectionately yours,_

_Jamie_

He folded the letter once, and again, then pulled a section of honeysuckle vine that was growing in a patch nearby.  He wrapped it around the letter to secure it then walked to the cleft stone. 

Murtagh returned to see the fire ring and kindling set up, and Jamie sat whittling. He raised his eyebrows, a motion which asked a simple question, prompting Jamie to nod a few times in answer.

 Rather than sit and simply stare at each other for the rest of the afternoon, they got out their pipes, tobacco, and some of the food from the tavern.

 Over the next couple hours they reminisced about their childhoods.  Murtagh told of his life growing up; some of the stories Jamie already knew, but a few he didn’t.  He didn’t mind hearing them again. Murtagh was such a gifted storyteller that even old stories were still interesting.

 “My Da and I went fishing one day.  I was about 9. There was one fish lingering by a log that had fallen into the stream.  The trout remained there in order to have the water flow directly over itself.  I didna cast towards it, though.  Da had been watching me and eventually asked why I wasna aiming for it.   
  
“That’s a lazy fish, aye?  It’s sat there to get all the food flowing over the log. I’d rather go for the fish in the pool here on the other side.  It would seem a better test of my ability.”

 Jamie had a sense of what was coming and began to smile.

“My Da turned to me and said “That’s an easy catch. And it’s lunch time. I’m concerned that ye dinna have a brain in that heid of yorn.’”

“’Well, that may be the case but since I canna peer inwards to confirm I can’t say you’re right but neither can I say you’re wrong.’”

This livened the men’s mood. They weren’t in poor spirits but the issue of Laogharie was looming now that they were preparing to go back.

Murtagh broached the subject first:   “Son, we canna stay here indefinitely. It must be dealt with, though a small repose isn’t unreasonable.”

“Aye. I appreciate it. It doesna sit well with me to avoid the matter any further either. I just ask for time to make my peace with Claire and we can be on our way.”

Just then, nearby, the ground rumbled.


	19. Chapter 19

Claire contemplated whether to stay or walk around the shops for a while.  She decided almost instantly when she eyed a wide swath of shade under a tree because caffeine crashes are real. Using her backpack as a pillow she was out within minutes, lulled by the cool breeze that was coming in gentle waves across her. 

 When the sun began to shine in her face she pushed herself up then checked her phone.  Noon. 

 She scooted to the other side of the tree, where the shade had moved, and began to text her Uncle when she eyed a folded piece of paper laying nearby. Knowing it was from Jamie she crawled to get it, gently pulling away the honeysuckle vines – which had miraculously survived - and unfolded the beautiful petal-laden paper. 

 Her heart beat madly as she read the letter just envisioning where, here, he might have sat.

 Gathering her sketchpad and a pencil, she wrote a reply.

 

  _Jamie,_

_Your letter was so touching, so beautiful, I can hardly express how happy I was to receive it._

_I do enjoy reading.  The classics – Shakespeare, Plato, Moliere – but also history, and current works on business and engineering. (I’m a chemical engineer. It’s using chemistry, biology, and machines to make useful products, if that helps.)  I began to draw while at university.  I’ve kept at it ever since._

_I’m visiting Scotland with my Uncle, a scientist, to do research.  We’re from England._

_Apart from art, archery, and traveling – what interests you?_

_With warmest regards,_

_Claire_

 

Near the stone she threw the letter, which she'd folded in thirds, underhand the way some people do with a basketball towards a net. She then tucked Jamie’s in her pocket and got her bike.   She rode onto the main strip, got a sandwich and cold water from one of the vendors, then parked her bike outside a history center.

 It wasn’t a tourist stop with “I heart Scotland” shot glasses and back scratchers, but rather a legitimate historical society. There were books on everything to do with Scotland as well as a children’s center in the back corner which had bean bags, desks, and videos.

 Along the entire top of the store, from one corner to the other, was a timeline that began with Roman occupation through to the present.  The center of the store, where a young woman was looking through a book with customers, was an octagon-shaped glass display case filled with relics, clothing, and documents.

 Claire texted Lamb:

 “Goofing about. Home soon. Early dinner?”

 “Goofing about here too. With Joe. Scottish fairy tales, lore and such. When you come home  we’ll get pizza.”

 “Great.”

 Claire approached the young woman who had just finished with customers.

 “Hello.  How would I find information about the Fraser clan?”  
  
“Welcome in!  Are you a descendent?”  
  
“No.  Just doing some research.”

 She opened one of the reference books near her to the section on Fraser.  It had a good deal of backstory, but no mention of Jamie.  The woman pointed Claire to a computer and got her started on accessing their databases.

 An hour into it and she’d found that Lallybroch was their home but not much else.  She printed a few things and went back to the counter.

 “Did you find what you were looking for?” the young woman asked.

 “Well, not too much.  But it’s still something.”

 Noticing what Claire had printed out, the woman opened one of a set of long drawers in a cabinet nearby and pulled out a large map that was the full version of what Claire was holding.

 “If you’d like, this will give you more detailed information than that little printout.”

“How much is it?”

 “It’s 20 pounds, but with the purchase we’re giving a backpack with camping supplies.”

 Claire wrinkled her eyebrows. “Camping supplies?”

 “I know. It seems odd.  The store that had been in here before us was a camping supply store.  They’d been behind on their rent and were evicted.  A good part of their inventory was in the back, so we’re just trying to get rid of it as a free gift with purchases.  You don’t have to take it” the woman laughed.  She put one on the counter for Claire to see.

 “It’s a rugged one, to be sure.”

 “Never hurts to have two!  I'll take both.”

 Starving, and excited for pizza, Claire returned her bike to the coffee shop and walked to the house.

Before she opened the door she heard Lamb and Joe’s “discussion.”

 Claire, having stood in the entryway listening to the back-and-forth for a few minutes without notice, held her keys up and jingled them loudly to get their attention.

 “YOU’RE BOTH PRETTY.  CAN WE EAT NOW?”

 The men looked up then laughed.

 “It’s been a productive day, friends, and I appreciate the offer to stay for dinner but I need to watch my figure so I’ll leave the Pizza to you two.  I’m going home to watch Shark Week” Joe said, waving as he went out the door. “Have a good evening.”

 Looking over the top of his glasses, Lamb saw that Claire was carrying two backpacks. 

 “Did you buy another backpack?”

 “Free with purchase” Claire said, shrugging.

 After dinner, Lamb was helping Claire clean up in the kitchen and noticed she was preoccupied. They sat down at the dining room table for a game of cards.

 “Claire, did you get another letter?” he asked.

 She hesitated, reached to her back pocket, changed her mind, looked away, crossed her legs, looked at the ceiling, then out the window.

 “So that’s a yes?”

 This time she pulled it out of her pocket and showed him, but didn’t give it to him to read.

 Lamb sat his chin in his hand. A few times he let out a sigh.

 “If you don’t mind my asking, what does he say?”

 “He asked if I enjoyed reading, when I began drawing, and if I was from Scotland.  What you’d say when you first meet someone, pretty much.”

 Lamb pulled the cards from the box and shuffled them.  He passed out seven cards to both of them then sat the deck in the middle.

 “Nothing in my life has prepared me for something like this" he said, looking down at his cards. 

 “Me either, honestly.”

 “Tell me - what are you feeling about this, if you care to share.”

 She picked up her hand, moved the cards around, then spoke:

 “I don’t want to believe that my break up with Frank is in any way influencing the growing connection I feel with Jamie.”

 Lamb stopped what he was doing and looked straight at her.

 “He’s rare and I can tell that from his writing.  There’s a dignity, and kindness that touches me.  I’ve lost both parents, traveled all over the world with the only remarkable man I’ve had in my life, been trained in archaeology and educated in science.  To say that a man to both compliment and challenge, love and encourage me can only be found in this time? Based on my life so far that doesn't seem to be the case.”

 Lamb reached over the table and took her hand.  “If you’re in pain, if you’re struggling with what happened, we’ll get through it.  But please. _Please._  Don’t do anything rash.  Promise me.”

 “I promise.  I’m not a hormone-driven teenager.  Any nines?

 “Go fish.”


	20. Chapter 20

 Murtagh looked toward the sound then moved to get his sgian-dubh.  Jamie got up but Murtagh tried to put him back down, raising a finger to his lips and motioning with his other hand towards the perimeter; though no longer present, the memory, and fear, of British patrols was still strong.  “Nay, Father. There’s no trouble. It’s another letter from Claire.”

 Still not convinced, Murtagh got up with him as he left. Jamie walked assuredly towards the stone though Murtagh continually looked around for danger. 

 Jamie picked the letter up, showed it to Murtagh, and they both turned to go back to where they were. Jamie laid down on his side, put the letter out on the ground, and propped his head on his hand.  Murtagh, wanting to give Jamie privacy again, kept going to check on the horses, but Jamie called him back.  “I appreciate the respect, but ye dinna need to leave. Stay.”

 After reading it, Jamie laid on his back, the letter held with one hand upon his heart.

 Murtagh, anxious to know what was transpiring between the two, merely waited for Jamie to share what – if anything - he was comfortable with; if he wasn’t, Murtagh would respectfully comply and ask nothing further. But Jamie knew Murtagh had every right know what was behind the desire to linger here. It was, after all, a desire Murtagh was graciously indulging so Jamie divulged their conversation thus far: 

 “I thanked her for the portrait and asked of her hobbies, and whether she was from Scotland” Jamie offered. “She’s British, visiting here with her Uncle who is a scientist.  She’s a…”  Jamie grabbed the letter again “ _chemical engineer._ ‘tis a profession that involves a ‘ _combination of chemistry, biology and machines’._   She asked what hobbies I had.”

 Jamie closed his eyes, imagining what her voice might be like.  Several minutes later he smiled, and laughed to himself.

 “Aye?”  Murtagh asked, doing a bit of whittling himself.

 “She asked what my hobbies were apart from archery, art and traveling. I was confounded how she knew about archery, but just now realized the arrow must have come through with one of the last letters.”

 “’twas a good arrow, too.”

 Jamie looked over at Murtagh whose grin indicated he wasn’t upset about losing it.

 Jamie lay still for nearly a quarter of an hour then went to the horses, got another sheet of paper – this time pink with deckled edges -  and sat near the brook.

  _My dearest lady,_

_Thank you for your letters.  They touch my heart as well._

_Apart from archery (mostly to procure game) I also enjoy classic literature, like you.  A favorite is Robinson Crusoe. Another simple pleasure is conversation. I’m a Scot, so this comes naturally. Just this evening my Godfather Murtagh and I reminisced about our childhoods. He’s the most gifted storyteller in my family, so the afternoon has passed with great humor.  I have been thinking how much I would enjoy such a time with you, talking of everything and nothing, seated beside a campfire.  There is so much I want to know about you._

_Regarding art, I’ve been scribbling since a child. Started out doing birds and such, though don’t have the hand for portraits that my Mother does._

_How very grateful I am that you ‘kept at’ art, for it became the bridge by which we became known to each other, and a salve for the pain of loneliness and emptiness I have carried for so long._

_Yours most ardently,_

_Jamie_

To wrap it, as he did before, he pulled some daisies and made a garland.  On his way to send it through the stone he saw that Murtagh had left the campsite.  When Jamie returned he began the fire and resumed his whittling.  Shortly afterwards, Murtagh returned with two hares.

 “I’ll no sleep well with only bread and cheese in my stomach” he said, winking.  Let’s try our hand at fish on the morrow, aye?  Could smoke them.  To have some eggs though! Would make a good kedgeree.”

 With the rabbits skinned, roasted and eaten, Murtagh went to get what remained of the bottle of scotch. They shared it until it was gone. They were quiet for a time. Murtagh worried what leaving Claire, and facing down his parents, was going to do to Jamie. Jamie, on the other hand, was preparing his argument against the marriage while pondering how to say goodbye to a lass he’d grown to love.


	21. Chapter 21

As Claire got into bed she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that was gripping her.  It had started slowly, but was growing. 

 “He’s traveling.  _T r a v e l i n g._ He’ll be leaving.  Was this his last letter? Had he gone already?”

 The fear of loss was something Claire always struggled with.  She lost both parents, simultaneously, making the emotional impact substantial. Because of this, everything good she experienced– friendships, love, happiness – would cause her to worry it would be gone in an instant.

 Frank, she’d initially believed, was going to be a reliable, positive presence so she took a chance with him.  Unsure of herself in making the first move, he stepped up. There were flowers. So many flowers.  He was there when he said he’d be there, called if he’d be late, would hold her if she felt unsteady.  Unfortunately, he was also doing this for other women.  She eventually deduced that this game of being dependable and comforting was to find the ones who would offer their bed. The ones that took too long, or refused, were discarded; ignored until they went away. 

 When running errands one afternoon, in preparation for dinner with Frank, Claire spotted him walking with a woman out of a clothing store.  He was putting the receipt into his coat pocket so she was almost certain he paid for whatever was in the bags the woman carried.  When she asked him about it that evening he said he’d hired a new secretary and it was her first job so he helped her out by buying her some clothes. Claire asked if it was a gift, or if his secretary would pay him back.  He bristled and said she didn’t need to worry.

 She’d given him the benefit of the doubt until she got up to leave after a cozy evening of dinner and television about a week later.  He asked if she would stay, holding and caressing her at the door.  She backed away, saying she needed more time.  His mood changed, the look in his eye turned cold, and he flatly said “of course.”  After that he wasn’t quick to return calls or texts and eventually stopped interacting at all.

That was a few years ago. It was only recently that he’d tried to woo her back.  She reasoned that he’d run out of women, or that enough of them had caught on to his game and, essentially, closed him out.

Uncle Lamb’s lost bet was great fortune as it brought them – her - out of London and into Scotland.

 Claire was contemplating all of this while falling asleep.  Despite the pervasive fear, she knew in her heart what her ideal man would be like. When she eventually found him it would resonate within her; a complementary vibration that would make her feel complete.

 She’d immediately felt something good, something genuine, about this man from another time.  Maybe it was the old-fashioned communication; maybe it was him coming to love her for her art, which Frank had said wouldn’t get her anywhere; or maybe it was his rugged, traditional nature.  ~~~~

She woke early again, dressed and walked to the coffee shop (decaf this time), ate a small breakfast, then got another bike and rode to the stones.

 Though the sun was barely up she was able to make out the letter laying on the ground by the flower garland wrapped around it. She didn’t even park the bike this time; she laid it down carelessly and ran.

After reading the letter she kissed it repeatedly and held it to her cheek.

 A sense of urgency overtook her, feeling he would be leaving soon, so she pulled whatever paper she had in her backpack and wrote him a letter right then.

 

_My darling Jamie,_

_I loved hearing of your recent afternoon. These written glimpses into your life, so beautifully crafted on such exquisite paper, are a painting themselves; Voltaire, a French writer who you may already know, said that “writing is the painting of the voice.”  It is hard to disagree with such truth._

_Conversation is delightful – I agree. I am incredibly lucky to have with my Uncle what you have with your Godfather.  What you and I have, though?  It is healing me of a heartache that I feared would never leave. True love really is a miracle._

_Cos'altro può esserci per la vita che amare ed essere amato in cambio?_

_Your devoted,_

_Claire_

She folded it haphazardly out of nervousness. Worry gripped her again, and she didn’t know what to do. An unexpected breeze came from behind her, gently tugging the letter out of her grip. It sailed, almost with tiny hands, directly at the stone and disappeared.

 _“_ I love you Jamie _”_ she whispered after it.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * What else can there be for life than to love and be loved in return?


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many of you have been wondering if Claire will ever make it to Jamie. Next week’s chapter is the big “reveal” and I’ll post it a day earlier than usual on Thursday, August 9.
> 
> Thanks for the support, and thanks for reading. :)

Jamie had slept fitfully. When the first signs of morning came – birds singing, sunrise, hunger – he rose, stretched, and walked to the horses. They were contentedly moored.  He patted them, then drew them to the stream to drink.  He washed himself then re-tied the horses.

He felt a great heaviness in his heart. His Mam had always said there was a silver lining to every cloud so Jamie trusted that he would find happiness amidst the storm that seemed to be gaining strength.

He went to the saddlebag and got the oat cakes he’d bought at the tavern, as well as a few sheets of paper.

Oddly, Murtagh was still sleeping. He was usually the first one up. After starting a fire Jamie kicked his boot. “Fish wilna bring themselves to us, aye?” he said, laughing. He walked off, the quiver on his back and arrow in his hand.

Murtagh, startled, sat up. He rubbed his eyes, stood, then walked after Jamie. 

The fairies were anxious for Jamie to get Claire’s letter. As they hovered over it, worried he would leave without seeing it, they decided to create a current to lift the letter from where it was at the stone so that it would lay delicately into his path - like a dandelion seed in the wind. 

Walking briskly back towards the stream he saw something float in front of him and land near his feet. He gasped when he realized it was Claire’s response.  “How did ye come all this way?” he whispered as he bent down to retrieve it before it blew away.  He read it quickly, then kissed it.

“I was awake, mind.  Just resting my eyes.” Murtagh said, coming up behind Jamie who was kneeling down.  He saw that Jamie was crouched the same way as when they’d arrived, so he peered down at him and laid a hand on his back.

“Son?”

Jamie tucked the letter into his vest,  quickly wiped the tear away, and stood up.

“I’m alright.”

They successfully caught several trout – more than enough for the morning’s meal. While the fish were cooking over the fire they ate the oat cakes.

“We need to be leaving soon.” Murtagh said, shifting away from the fire that was directly between them so he could see Jamie better.

“Aye.  I’ll be sending one last letter.”

Murtagh lowered his head, then looked up.  Jamie was clearly troubled, for the dark circles under his eyes and clenched jaw showed his strain. “I’m going to wash off in the stream. Might even bathe.  Can’t say exactly when I’ll be back.  Keep an eye on the fish?”

Knowing his Godfather was doing this to give him a last bit of time here alone, Jamie looked up, smiled, and nodded his head.

 

_Claire,_

_This morning as I walked to the stream to catch our breakfast your letter floated gently to my feet.  I’ve no idea how it made it the distance, but I was genuinely happy it did.  Le tue lettere sono la mia più grande felicità.*_

_My stay here has come to an end.  We – my Godfather Murtagh and I –  must be returning to obligations at home.  I wish it were something other than time that separated us, for sometimes a single foe is more formidable than an army.  If it were only distance, I would travel it;  If it were money, I’d sell all I owned;  but time – that I cannot vanquish._

_Providence has been generous in allowing these few letters to travel unfettered, making me forever grateful.  I could not in all faith ask for more. I pray though that this, my last letter, will make it to you. ~~~~_

_May God bless you, my darling, and keep you in His loving hand. You have touched my heart, and mind, in a way I’ve only ever dreamed of.  For that, I am forever in your debt._

_Always,_

_Jamie_

 

He looked down at his kilt pin and ran his fingers over it.  He used the second sheet of paper as an envelope to enclose the letter then added the pin.  Wanting to ensure it’s safe journey he bound the small package in twine, blessed it, then threw it to the stone.

It vanished.

“I love you Claire” he whispered.

Jamie knew he may never hear from her again, nor breathe with the ease that comes from a deep happiness.  He was keenly aware that the gift of meeting Claire was a blessing itself.  If Jamie had known the famous line from Tennyson’s poem -  “’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all” - it might have been some comfort. But he didn’t; instead he drew up what strength he had left to confront a future, and the parents who’d arranged it, with the hope and healing he’d found in a beautiful, intelligent lass from the future.

 * Your letters are my greatest happiness.

 

 

 


	23. Chapter 23

To keep her mind off any more worrying thoughts Claire decided to clean as a way to distract herself.

Lamb and Joe were at the University for the day.  Joe was going to introduce Lamb to his class and have a Q&A after.  She agreed to meet them in town for dinner.

Starting with her room she picked up piles of clothes first.  She considered making a cup of tea, remembering the pouches Yi Tien Cho had given her.  Each one was so beautifully put together, tied with red ribbon, that she didn’t want to open them.  She started to take them to keep in the kitchen when her phone rang.

It was Emily, a friend from college.  They’d been roommates but lost touch when Claire left for Scotland.    A simple “how have you been?” turned into an exhaustive detailing of Emily’s life since Claire left.

She laid on the bed to talk then got up and absent-mindedly stuck the tea pouches in the new backpack and zipped it. Some people doodle while on the phone, some walk around or pace, some tidy up.  Usually, when the latter happens, they sit things where they’re not supposed to be. Trying to stay engaged in talking, while remembering she wanted to clean, would cause Claire a few of these.  Finally having a chance to tell Emily what SHE had been up to, Claire mentioned that Lamb had said they’d be doing some hiking this weekend.  Thinking of this caused her to lug her new backpack all the way downstairs, rather than her old one which she took everywhere. 

After hanging up with Emily an hour or so later Claire ate some leftovers then grabbed her keys and wristlet. She saw her backpack by the front door and forgot she’d put it there.

“Oh. I must have been thinking about leaving this weekend.  Well, I’ll see if this one will be worth carrying by taking it on a walk to the park.” It was pretty comfortable after a few adjustments.  She filled up a thermos with water and stuck it in the side pouch.

The walk was long, especially without a bike, and carrying a loaded backpack made it even longer. By the time she got there she chucked the backpack and laid in a cool spot, downing one of the cold water bottles she’d bought from a vendor rather than the tap water in the thermos.

After a rest she got up and looked around for a letter.  She was worried she wouldn’t hear from Jamie again when she spotted it stuck in a bush.

Opening it quickly, and seeing the pin, caused the tears to fall fast.  She sat there for quite a while, arguing with herself about whether it would be worth it to send him a quick goodbye note of her own.  She took out a slip of paper and pencil, putting his letter and pin in their place, and jotted something short. She tied it with the twine.

“Who am I kidding. He’s gone.”

Lamb had been texting and calling. Consumed with sadness, Claire wasn’t paying attention to time and hadn’t checked her phone.  He and Joe were sitting at the restaurant waiting for her. They got worried after half an hour of not hearing back.

“She’s at the stone. I know it.” Lamb said, tapping his knife on his plate. 

“What’s on your mind?”

“Ever just get a feeling?”  
  
“If you feel like going to check on her, we can get some takeout on the way back.”

“Yea. I don’t like this.”

They immediately left and began walking, but an urgency overtook them and they ran the rest of the way. Lamb was the first to see her, sitting near the stone crying.

“CLAIRE” Lamb yelled as he ran down the hill. 

She looked up at him, the realization that she’d forgotten dinner dawning on her.

“I’m sorry. I…he’s gone.”

Lamb turned to look at Joe whose face was a mixture of worry and sadness.  He motioned to gather Claire and get her away from the stones.

“Please.  Come with me. I can’t have you staying here any longer.”

Claire nodded and stood up, running a hand through her hair.  She grabbed her backpack. Lamb offered her his hand as he followed Joe who was attempting to lead the way out of the park.

Walking past the stone, she pressed the letter into it as she walked by, a last attempt to reach him.

In that instant she, along with Lamb who was holding onto her hand, disappeared. Joe, in a knee-jerk reaction, lunged to save his friends causing him to disappear right behind them.

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments! I’m glad that many of you were excited for how the last chapter ended. I really wanted to keep everyone together considering how much loss Claire suffered in the books. 
> 
> This week: Jamie arrives back home. 
> 
> Next week: Claire, Lamb, and Joe begin a new journey.

Jamie and Murtagh left the park about noon, expecting to be home just before dinner.  They rode in silence, much like their ride in.

 Murtagh was glad for the quiet, actually, because it gave him time to consider what to do now that his position on the marriage had changed.  He felt that Ellen, in her heart, wasn’t fully behind the arrangement and that it was more at Brian’s insistence. This could mean that, should Murtagh take Jamie’s side, Brian would be the only one to directly contend with.

If Jamie were given an ultimatum, Murtagh would stand his ground, no matter, and take the lad in.  The Lairdship could then pass to Willie.   A wild, mostly impossible scenario but nothing was off the table, so to speak, so Murtagh prepared for the worst but expected the best.  Maybe they’d had a change of heart with he and Murtagh being gone these several days, and Jamie would be given the freedom to choose.

 It occurred to Murtagh, well into their trip while riding along a peaceful, tree-laden stretch of path, that if things HAD changed and they weren’t going to force Jamie into the marriage that that would be another situation entirely.  Before Jamie had become attached to this lass on the other side of time, a reprieve from the arrangement with Laogharie would have meant relief and freedom; now, though, this freedom could bring as much pain as a forced marriage if Jamie could not now actually wed the woman he did love.

 Murtagh noticed how Jamie had ridden ahead of him a few times, and that when he caught up he saw how his eyes were swollen and red.  He’d clearly been weeping.  Rarely is it easy to confess the cause of your pain and tears, so even though Murtagh was anxious to soothe the lad’s distress, he remained quiet and gave Jamie the time and space he obviously wanted.

 At the halfway point they stopped to rest the horses and get some food at one of the small taverns along the route; they’d nibbled away the last of what they had.

 Surprisingly, Jamie ate everything on his plate and some more on top of that.  Whatever he’d reasoned within himself had given him enough peace to be able to eat.  For that, Murtagh was grateful.  He couldn’t bear to see the lad’s continued anguish.  And yet, Murtagh needed to know Jamie’s thoughts and any decisions he’d made in order to support him.

 “Few more hours and we’ll be arrived.  Have ye decided how to address the situation?” Murtagh said, laying his fork and knife on his empty plate.

 “Aye.  I’ll refuse, and take the consequences.  I canna be joined to Laogharie.  It’s a lifetime commitment, I believe, and no to be taken thoughtlessly, aye? Mam and Da have been happily married these many years.  Why should I no have a right to the same?”

 Murtagh took a long drink from his ale, wiping his beard on his sleeve.  He nodded in agreement, saying nothing more.  He could ask what had happened to Jamie’s kilt pin, a gift handed down from his grandsire, how he’d ended things with Claire, and whether either of these things played out in this decision, but doing so came with a risk of causing Jamie pain in the telling so Murtagh accepted the little that Jamie offered.

 The remainder of the journey was more light-hearted than the beginning.  They told stories and  laughed until their sides hurt. There had always been a strong, loving bond between them filled with laughter and trust that seemed to grow with each year and with each trip together – especially this one.

 Eyeing the last stretch of road before coming into the courtyard, Murtagh goaded Nelson into a full gallop, looking back at Jamie as a challenge to race.  Jamie smiled, remembering the times they’d done the same thing in the field behind Lallybroch when he was younger.  He gave Blueskin a few taps – all that was needed to get him started – then held on for dear life.   

 Murtagh maintained his lead despite his horse being older. Pulling up right at the front steps, a winded Murtagh turned to Jamie a few minutes later when he pulled up alongside him and clapped him on the arm.  “Yer still slow son.  Maybe one day.” 

 “My arse! Ye had a 20 yard lead!” he laughed.

 Hearing the noise of the horse’s hooves on the cobblestone and the excitement of the dogs, Brian opened the door. “Guess your stomachs lead ye right – Shepherd’s pie is just sat on the table!” 

 Jamie dismounted first, then took each stair with confidence and embraced Brian. “Has never lead me wrong yet!”

 Murtagh followed Jamie and shook Brian’s hand, nodding as he started to walk into the house. Brian detected a dark edge to Murtagh’s look that hadn’t been there when the left, a sign of possible trouble.

 


	25. Chapter 25

Claire rolled over to shut her window, the breeze too strong and too chilly for this early in the morning, but there wasn’t a window. Nor was there a wall.  Instead, there was the open field in Cairngorms Park. She pulled herself up, then held her head with her hands.  Looking around she saw Lamb and Joe lying nearby, and crawled first to her Uncle who was beside her.

“LAMB! LAMB! WAKE UP.”  She felt his pulse. It was weak but consistent.  She crawled next to Joe, checking his pulse which was the same as her Uncle’s. “JOE! JOE! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?” Neither responded.  Frantically trying to piece together what had happened, she sat back down to gather her senses.

“I was at the stone…”  she turned to see it nearby “to…what was I trying to do? I was upset about something.”  She felt an urge to run for help then realized she didn’t hear anything. No music, no cars, no planes. It was eerily quiet. She looked towards the hill. There was no parking lot and no traffic. 

“Oh no. NO no no no no.”

She moved towards her Uncle, taking his hand. “Lamb. It’s Claire.  Can you hear me?” He moved his lips slightly, trying to speak. “Lamb.  Wake up.  I need you to wake up.”  She began rubbing his hand.

“What’s happened?”  he strained out.

“I’m pretty sure we passed through the stone.”

Joe moved his head, catching Claire’s eye, so she crawled back to him. “Joe!  Can you wake up?  It’s Claire.”

“Where are we?”  he managed to get out.

“We’re in 18thcentury Scotland.”

His eyes opened partly, closed again, then opened more fully. “What?” 

“You’ll understand soon enough.”

He sat up, rubbing his forehead, feeling dizzy and nauseous.  He took several deep breaths then turned to see Claire helping Lamb sit up. “WHAT HAPPENED?” Joe crawled over to help Claire.

Lamb had sat up and put his head between his knees.  After a few minutes he looked at Claire. “Claire. Good gracious. Are you alright?” 

“Improving.”  She said with a smile.

“What in the world…”  He turned fully around.  “Oh no. No no no no no.”

 “Yep.”

 “This can’t have happened.” Joe said resolutely.  “It’s not possible.”

 “Gentlemen, welcome to 1776 Scotland.”

 “We were…”  Lamb said, confusion overtaking him.  “We were at the restaurant…”

 “Claire hadn’t texted back.” Joe said, piecing together his last memories.

 "You both had come to the stones where I was sitting.  Then we got up to leave.  That’s all I remember.” Claire added.

 “Well, we can piece things together a bit later.  FWSF: Fire, Water, Shelter, Food.” Joe said, worried for their safety.

 Realization came to Claire and she looked around for her backpack.  It was a few yards away. She scurried over to it and dragged it back with her. “I can’t believe my absent-mindedness is a stroke of luck.”  She considered what she just said. “Maybe I wasn’t so absent-minded.”

 Joe and Lamb, arriving at a different realization, looked inside their coat pockets and nodded to each other.

 She handed the 2nd bottle of water she’d bought from the vendor to Joe and Lamb to share, holding it out with her hand while she rummaged through the backpack. Neither of them took it. 

“Nope. We need to save that.” Joe said, shaking his head.

 Claire looked at Lamb.

 “What he said.”

 She tucked it back into the side pouch, sighing.

 “What DO you have in there? Anything useful?” Lamb said peering towards the bag.

 “Welllll….” Claire said, taking random things out and laying them on the ground -  “compass…collapsible pot and mug…SWISS ARMY KNIFE!  YES!... little shovel…”

 “Where did you get this again?” Lamb asked, confused.

 “Long story.”

 “Oh. Go on then.”

 “A small plastic pipe?  What the…”  
  
“I’LL take that” Joe said.  “Can be used to access a spring.”

 “Ok.  Uh…fold up thermal blanket, flares…flashlight with a solar panel… Criminy.  There’s a lot.”

 “I’ll be on water duty” Joe said, rather triumphantly “because we can’t drink from any stream.  Are there any iodine tablets in there, Claire?  We can use them to purify water.”

“Probably.”  Claire began to shake, hugging her knees.

 “Honey”  Lamb said worriedly, wrapping his arms around her. 

 “I’m so sorry for causing all of this.  It’s all my fault we’re stuck here in the middle of nowhere 18thcentury Scotland.” 

 “How could you have known?”

 Joe kneeled down beside Claire. He lowered his head in thought, then raised it and looked at her. 

“Sometimes things happen for a reason. We often get so caught up in ourselves and the belief that we’re at fault, or being punished, that we completely miss the role of serendipity in what happens to us.  Let’s ride with it.”  He took her hand.  “We’ll make it.  Something good will come from it.”

He stood up, taking the shovel and pipe. “I’m going to look for water. Stay here. This will be our base camp.”

Lamb kept his arms around her. “We’ve been in nearly every type of inhospitable environment there is.  This is almost like that time we were at Thebes. Remember the language mess up when the team we worked with thought we were bringing food and supplies and we thought they were?  We ended up with nothing in the middle of nowhere.  Even our GPS wouldn’t work.  We made it then and we’ll make it now.  Let’s set up a place to sleep and get wood for a fire.”

Lamb and Claire did a cursory check of their immediate surroundings.  They came upon a spot with a circle of ashes.

“Was this a campfire?” Claire asked outloud.  She poked around the ashes which were still somewhat warm and found fish in them, causing her to gasp.

Lamb walked quickly over to her, having gathered a handful of berries.  “What is it?”

“This…. oh my goodness…this was where Jamie and his Godfather were. It’s still warm.”

“What?”  
  
“He wrote to me, probably just before we came. He said he’d caught fish for breakfast and they were leaving to go back to their home.”

Lamb’s chest tightened. Many things had run through his mind these past weeks as to what was happening. Now, in what clearly seemed to be another time, he would be forced to accept that she had, in fact, been telling the truth. 


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got long, so rather than give all of you a huge chunk to read at once I'm going to make two small chapters. One is posting today, and the other tomorrow. :)
> 
> For the next few weeks Claire, Lamb, and Joe will be adjusting to their new environment and Jamie's back at home. Soon after, though, we'll see everyone together. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

“Murtagh” Brian said cautiously as Murtagh walked into the house.

Ellen, gathering plates out of the cupboard, looked up to see her son bounding towards her. “Jamie!  Oh lad, ‘tis so good to see ye” she said, embracing him as much as a woman of 5’4" could to a man 6’3". “Come – sit down and eat!  Where’s Murtagh?”

Stepping to Jamie's side, he smiled at Ellen as he removed his cap. 

“Aye – there ye are! Sit!”

Jenny and Willie had just come from playing outside to see what the commotion was about.  “Oh – yer finally home!”  Jenny said, walking up behind Jamie and hugging him.  “Oy – ye reek!”  She pulled away quickly, waving her hand in front of her nose.  “Were ye nowhere near water?” 

“Aye, I was, but I didna want to disturb the stench!  It’d taken a week to make!”  he said, his voice booming now that they were indoors. 

Willie, coming around Jenny, wasn’t bothered by any smell. “Welcome home brother. ‘twas lonely without ye” he said shyly.  They’d shared a room since Willie was out of the bassinet and their nighttime talks had helped him fall asleep.

“I missed ye as well, lad.”

“I fare better in smell!” Murtagh said as Jenny, then Willie, sidled up to him.  He hugged them both then placed a kiss on top of their heads.

Once seated at the table and after blessing the food, Ellen asked how the trip had gone.

“Got everything ye wanted” Murtagh said after a bite.  “And yours as well” he said, glancing at Brian.

“I’m appreciative.  We can have a smoke after dinner with a dram of whiskey.”  

Jenny and Willie hadn’t been too far from the estate, so looked forward to stories whenever the men returned from trips. Jamie’s storytelling, rivaled only by his Godfather’s, kept the family entertained throughout dinner. Embellishing their simple tasks – fetching wood, catching fish – was his signature. 

“So, I’d set my sight on a brown trout about the size of my forearm, lurking in the shallow by a tree root.  I drew my arrow and took a slight step forward.  A shadow in the creek appeared to my left.  I turned my head to see another trout longer than Blueskin’s leg so I fixed my arrow on it instead. It pulled itself out of the water and spoke to me just as I was ready shoot.

“If you let me pass I’ll grant you a wish.” 

“Will ye now?  And how is it yer in any position to grant me a wish, aye?”

“I was once a prince, turned into a trout by the village witch.   She posed as a poor widow asking for money as I rode by one day.  I pulled my horse to a stop and berated the woman for begging and interrupting my ride.  She wagged a crooked finger at me and said ‘Cruel and evil you are!  You’ve learned nothing from the noble King, your Father or your beautiful kind Mother the Queen!  A fish you will be, prey too all who seek food, until 10 good deeds you do!”

Jenny and Willie’s eye were wide with excitement.

“So I told the fish ‘A coin then, and I’ll let ye pass’.  He blinked his agreement and spit out a gold coin on a rock.”

“DID YE LET HIM PASS THEN?” Willie asked.

“Of course I did!  Then Murtagh and I had a fine breakfast!”

Brian, smothering a laugh with his hand, could only shake his head.  “Alright, children.  Ye’ve been up late so off to bed with ye.  Say yer prayers.”

“Aye, Da.” Jenny and Willie helped with clean up then left to their bedrooms.

Brian got a bottle of whiskey and glasses while Murtagh and Jamie went outside to empty the saddlebags. While Murtagh took Ellen and Brian’s things, Jamie gathered his soaps, the material, and papers so he could take them directly to his room.

In the living room, Ellen sat beside Brian on the only sofa while Jamie and Murtagh took the chairs across from them. Brian handed out the glasses of whiskey while Murtagh detailed piece by piece what he’d gotten for Ellen.  “Dear me!  ‘tis everything I wanted!”  She held the soaps to her nose.  I do so love peony.  Thank ye, Murtagh.”

He nodded to her, then handed Brian the pipe and tobacco.  “Thank ye as well” Brian said, placing in a plug then lighting a spill in the fire.  He passed it to Murtagh, who passed it to Jamie as they all drew from their pipes.

Jamie wasn’t sure if the marriage would be brought up tonight, or tomorrow after he’d rested. Murtagh seemed on edge, his eyes narrowed and his foot shaking back and forth.

Eventually, Brian spoke.

 


	27. Chapter 27

“Son, I want to apologize for the quarrels these past months. Ye ken, as your Father, I’ve only done what I thought was best for ye.”

 Jamie, leaning forward on his knees, looked up and nodded.

 “My decision for ye to wed Laogharie was born out of worry ye’d never choose.  Lass after lass came and went, and with each one ye had another excuse for why they werena good enough.  I did what I felt was my duty as your Da – to make the decision for ye.”

 Without even looking up this time, Jamie nodded again.  Murtagh looked over at his Godson hunched over, the pain he was carrying obvious.   He took his pipe from his mouth to speak but Brian quickly resumed.

 “Yer Mam and I talked. We both didna want to see ye unhappy, but most of all we wanted peace between us again.  That’s why we decided not to force ye into a marriage ye didna want.”

 Jamie raised his head, stunned.  He cast a glance of relief to Murtagh who smiled and nodded to him.

 Brian and Ellen both noticed the exchange between Murtagh and Jamie, confirming this with a press of their hands together.

 “I canna thank ye enough. But what of Laogharie?”

 Brian smiled.  “Well, Gordon stopped by a few days past and said we’d doddled enough and he’d accepted a proposal from Henry MacAlister’s son.  Made our decision that much easier.”

 Stunned that his parents had made amends without another argument, and that he had been granted freedom, Jamie sat his pipe down on the table.  He’d had a completely different speech prepared, so was struggling for a reply.

 “I’m so glad of it all I dinna ken what to say.” 

 Murtagh felt himself relax. He remembered the prayer he’d said at the chapel, and thanked God for looking out for his Godson.

 After a long silence, Ellen remarked: “Ye sleep on it and if ye feel a need to speak more, we can do so tomorrow.”  She rose and walked to Jamie.  He raised his head, his eyes full of hope again. She ran her hand down his cheek. “I’m glad of it as well, son.”

 She looked to Brian who followed her upstairs.

 When the door closed, Murtagh smiled and raised his glass. “Taing do Dhia!” Jamie returned the toast and they both downed their whiskey. 

 In the hallway upstairs Murtagh began to walk into his room when Jamie pulled on his arm slightly.  As he turned around, Jamie thanked him for all he’d done.  Murtagh clapped him on the shoulder then went into the room and closed the door.

 When Jamie opened the door to his and Willie’s room, he saw the candle still lit and Willie awake.  He was sat bolt upright, his face awash in worry.

 Jamie washed and prepared for bed, smiling at Willie as he blew out the candle.

 “I think yer very brave brother” came Willie’s small voice in the dark.

 “Thank ye lad.”

 “I would ha’ been sore afraid of a talking fish.”

 “Mind, I was bigger than he was and had an arrow in my hand.” 

 Not sure what brought about this particular conversation, Jamie prodded a bit.

 “Are ye alright, lad? Something on yer mind?”

 Jamie could hear muffled crying.

 “Ye can talk to me. Let it out.”

 “I dinna want ye to marry Laogharie!  I think she’s a witch and I dinna want to be turned into a fish!”

 Jamie quickly got out of bed and went to sit beside Willie who had now broken into sobs.  “’tis alright! We’re not to be wed.  Dinna worry.”

 Willie took a deep, jagged breath.  “Are ye tellin’ the truth?”

 “Aye!  I wouldna lie about something like that.”  
  
“I’ve heard Mam and Da discussin’ the arrangement and my wame has been turning from fear.  She’s no been nice when she’s visited.”

 “She’s to wed another.”

 Willie fell into Jamie’s arms.  “Praise the Good Lord.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late posting. I wanted to wait until the AO3 upgrade had finished.

Joe returned about an hour later, his fists raised in triumph as he came out of the woods.  “WE HAVE WATER!” he yelled, his voice echoing through the “park.”

 Lamb and Claire each raised a fist in acknowledgement.  Water was crucial.

 As Joe approached what was serving as base camp, he saw that kindling had been arranged over the fire Jamie and Murtagh had started, there was a pot full of berries, and serious stock had been taken of everything that ended up in the backpack.

 “Dang.  There’s a lot of stuff.  I’m not complaining, of course!”

 “Yea” Claire said, putting her hands on the small of her back and kneeding it a bit.

 “So…where did this come from again?”

 “Well, I was at the history center in town just, you know, looking up some information, and when I bought that map” Claire pointed to the map laying on the ground with everything else “the woman who worked there said they were giving away backpacks with each purchase.” 

 “GIVING away?”

 “Yes.  The camping store that was there before them got behind on the rent, got evicted, and left all the inventory.  My guess is the historical society tried to sell it piece by piece with no luck, then just shoved it all into backpacks and gave it away.”

 “All the better for us.”

 Lamb expressed his surprise at how quickly Joe got done. “That was pretty fast work in getting water. Done this before?”

 “I’ve piped a spring or two in my day” he said, winking.

 “Apart from all of that” Claire said, eyeing everything on the ground “our phone will be somewhat useful, though nothing that requires GPS or the internet.”

 “I have a compass app” Lamb said, thumbing through his phone.

 “And I have an app that can translate English to Gaelic, though it would have to be what’s in the database.”

 “We’ve got a survival manual, thankfully!” Claire said, kicking it with the toe of her boot.

 “Let’s make a shelter. Fairly simply design – we just need some logs.”  Joe hung his coat on a tree, and motioned for Lamb to do the same.  They’d been dressed simply for dinner the night before but brought along jackets; as they were so used to some type of field work, and therefore dressing casually and purposefully, dinner with a lady always required a jacket in their minds.

 Whistling the song “Whistle While You Work,” Joe began to collect as many loose tree limbs as he could find, using the folding saw to get others. Lamb and Claire gathered as much vegetation and branches with foliage to cover the outside when Lamb stopped to stretch his back, casting a raised eyebrow at Joe. 

 “You seem pretty chipper.”

 Joe wiped his face on his sleeve, then nodded to Lamb who was more than a little curious to why Joe had seemed so eager and peaceful since they’d arrived. Lamb, obviously waiting for an explanation, leaned against a nearby pine then waved his hand in the air as much to say “go ahead.”

 Claire, coming back from the pile of brush she’d made, looked at the men who seemed to be at a standoff.  “I’m guessing we’re in for a story?”

 “Alright.  But let’s get this hut going.”

 Joe seemed, as the saying goes, to be in his element.  From the second he went to find spring water, to knowing how to build a makeshift hut, Lamb was seeing the man behind the academian as Joe began shedding the well-educated and often-consulted historian persona for wilderness man.

 “We’ve only known each other these few years, mostly through institutions of learning” Joe began. “I grew up in a very rural part of Pennsylvania.  Every summer me and my brother stayed with our Grandparents on their farm.  My Gramps didn’t have beyond an 8thgrade education but dang if that man couldn’t do everything. Built his own house, in his 60’s, with me and Greg’s help. Made shoes for his kids. Accomplished hunter, fisherman, mechanic.  He lived and survived on his own merits.”

 The more Joe told, the happier he seemed to get.

 “He taught us everything and kept us busy learning. Absolutely no lounging around!  Thing is…” Joe continued, stacking logs “I’ve been itching to get off the grid for a few years.”  He looked at Lamb.  “Aren’t you sick of using the internet for everything?  Texting instead of talking? Buying everything pre-made?” 

 “In a way.  Yea.”

 “All this knowledge he and Gran gave me and what have I done with it?  I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished at University.  But life is revolving around the computer, and everyone’s nose stuck to a phone… I’ve just been wanting to get away for a while and quit lounging.  Kind of be a kid again.”

 Lamb scratched at what would soon become a 5 o’clock shadow.  “So that’s what it is.  I have to say buddy, it suits you.”

 With a small hexagonal shelter made, enough for the 3 of them to sleep in, Claire started a fire.

 “There’s still some daylight.  Who wants to come with me to get the fish?” Joe said, starting to walk off.

 “’get the fish?’” Claire asked.

 “I made a primitive fish trap on the bank of the creek.  Should be a few in there already.  We’ll get them and some water from the spring.”

 “I’m in” Claire said, catching up with him.

 Sure enough, a few small fish had schooled in the trap.  Between those and the berries, dinner was complete.

 Sitting around the fire, Lamb asked what their plan was. “Now that we’ve gotten shelter and water, the question is: Do we have any destination in mind?”

 Both men’s eyes came to settle on Claire, the hissing and cracking of the fire the only sound.

 “That’s why I went to the history center in the first place. I wanted to see if he actually existed and where he lived.  I got a map of what I believe was – is - his home.”  She reached behind her and grabbed the map.  “The problem will be transportation, and continued food. There’s instant stuff and protein bars but that will only last so long.”

 Joe asked to see the map, looking immediately at the legend. “This could be only hours away.  IF that’s where we’re going.”  He turned it for Lamb to see.

 Claire sighed, and felt like crying again. “I never thought about coming back. I hope you believe me.”

 Both men nodded.

 “But we’re all here now and I feel obligated to find us help and that’s the only place where I think we’ll find it.”

 “Sounds like a plan” Lamb said “so if that’s the case, then we should get going in the morning.” 

 

 

 

 

 


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Popping back in with a quick note to answer the comments about when Jamie and Claire will meet.
> 
> Chapter 30, coming up next Friday, is a long but fun chapter of the three traveling to Lallybroch, so Chapter 31 will be when they arrive. I'll probably post it early, on Wednesday the 26th, so the wait won't be so long. :)
> 
> p.s: Got my dates wrong on previous edit, so had to make changes. I'm so sorry. 
> 
> I know it's been a long, but hopefully enjoyable, story so far. Almost there!

After a morning of weaning calves the men had come back to the house for lunch and a short rest before the afternoon’s work of gathering hay.  

 Murtagh took up a chair in the sitting room.  He placed the curtains in the holdback and opened one of the windows onto the side yard.  Directly underneath were one section of Ellen’s roses and her cherished peonies. Around them were dozens of heather.  It was the scotch broom, though, whose scent was wafting through the window.  So much better than the manure of the barn.

 He placed his hands on his chest, gazing at the portraits that hung on the walls.  He’d been present at most of the sittings for his direct but kind voice was the only thing that kept the children seated for the length of time it took to capture them.  The breeze was cool, considering how hot it had been out in the field, and soon Murtagh had dozed off.

He heard a slight rustling and turned his head towards the door where it came from.  Emily, nervous at having woken him, began to scurry away. “Lass!  ‘tis alright.  What would ye be needin’?” 

 She slowly walked back into the room.  “I was just wondering if ye’d like a slice of apple pie. I made it myself.”  She was shaking so badly the fork was rattling on the plate.

 “Aye. I would. Thank ye.” Murtagh put his hand out.  He sat it on the table beside the chair and began to take a bite when he noticed she was still standing in the same spot, wringing her hands on her apron.

 “Would ye be wanting’ a cup of tea maybe?”

 “I appreciate the thought, but the pie will do.  Thank ye Emily.” She curtsied, then left.

 His thoughts then settled on Jamie. He had watched him throughout the day, the strain still showing in his slumped shoulders and the emptiness in his eyes.  To bear the loneliness he worked twice as hard.  Murtagh noticed Brian’s eyes would occasionally rest on Jamie, seeing the emotional strain manifest in fervent work, but Brian bit his lips to hold in his thoughts then went back to work.

 As they walked back to the house Brian had caught up with Jamie and placed an arm around his back, asking a question.  Jamie nodded then walked further ahead, into the house, and to his room.

 Hearing another rustling, Murtagh broke from his reverie to look at the door expecting Emily to be bringing more dessert when he saw Brian walk tentatively in.

 Murtagh rose from his chair. “Ready to get the hay done? I was just…”

 “Shortly.  Would ye mind my asking after Jamie?” Brian said, sitting in the chair next to Murtagh.

 “I dinna know that I’ll have the answers yer lookin’ for, but ye can ask” he replied, sitting back down.

 Brian controlled the desire to flinch, seeing a sliver of the darkness that had shown itself in Murtagh’s attitude as they came home last evening. 

 “The lad seemed relieved that we were no going to push him into the marriage, but there’s pain in his eyes that I canna place. I was wondering if ye could – would – share anything.” 

 Murtagh turned to look out the window. As much as he wanted to relieve Brian’s worry, it was not his place to divulge what had happened.  He turned back to Brian:  “Canna say for sure what’s on his mind, but time should bring about healing, aye?”

 Brian let his head fall. All he could gather from what Murtagh implied was that Jamie needed time to get over whatever had happened, and there would be no more said about it from him. He rose, resolved to give Jamie time to heal but also to be an active source of love and support. Maybe that would bring him to unburden himself. “Aye. I’ll meet ye outside.”

 With the hay gathered, animals fed and penned, stables cleaned, and fence repaired, Brian reminded the men – which was now including Willie – that a second sheering of the longwool sheep needed to be done as they walked back to the house for dinner. “We’ll begin that tomorrow.”

 “I like the stockings Mam makes from it” Willie said, taking Brian’s hand “they make my feet happy.”  Brian was always touched by Willie’s gentleness and kindness. “Aye. She has a gift with her needles.”

 Dinner was quiet. While sitting at the fire afterwards, Ellen caught Brian’s eye then looked to Jamie.  His return look was accompanied by a shake of his head, meaning he’d not been able to find out what had kept Jamie so sullen.  Ellen shook her head and resumed her embroidery.

 Jamie excused himself, said goodnight to everyone, then went to his room.  He retrieved the letters from his bureau and sat on his bed re-reading each one.  The portrait he saved until last. Exhaustion engulfing him, he went to the basin to wash. He opened the drawer then ran his fingers over the material he bought.  “Ye need to get yerself together.  She isna here and will never be.”  He kissed the portrait then laid it inside with the letters.

 Washing with his new soap was a small joy; the smell was so much better than what he’d always had to use. He cleaned his teeth from a canister of bicarbonate of soda with a small boar’s hair brush. It was easier than the old way of using a willow twig.  At the weekend he’d have a bath.

 Leaving a candle lit for Willie, Jamie laid in bed grateful to be exhausted as it made sleep deeper and more sound.  Working the body so hard was helping to control the heartache of missing Claire.

 When Willie came in the room later he washed then blew out the candle and got into his bed. 

 “Brother?” he asked.

 “Aye” Jamie said, sleepily. 

 “Ye dinna seem sound.”

 Jamie smiled to himself. Willie had a way of expressing himself that could, in another time, be termed a “Willie-ism.”

 “Are ye saying I don’t seem myself?”

“Aye. I am.”

 Jamie was fighting not only the overwhelming need to sleep, but to laugh.

 “Thank ye for the concern. I’ll be more myself with time.”

 “’Ye can talk to me. Let it out.’”

 “Yer a good lad, but what I need more than conversation is rest.”

“ My heid’s done in as well.   Good night Jamie.”

 “Good night Willie.”

 Smiling, and with a lightened heart, Jamie fell right to sleep.

 

 

 


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: the next chapter will post on Wednesday.

Claire and Joe rose first, groaning and moaning.

 “I haven’t slept on the ground in a while. Oh my GOSH” Claire said, rubbing her neck.

 Lamb grumbled from his spot at the other end: “I need coffee.”

As Joe and Claire climbed over each other to get out of the hut, they comically fought for who could get to the food first.  Claire reached for the backpack, sitting just outside, but Joe grabbed it and hurled himself on top of it yelling “DIBS.” 

 “Cheater!” 

 “To the winner go the spoils!”

 Joe rolled off of it and rummaged around for anything inside that they could eat.  He found the protein bars and instant coffee packets.

 “Awesome! There’s sugar and cream packets too.”

 Claire gathered the leftover kindling from last night, set aside for this morning’s breakfast, and got another fire started.

 “Ugh.”

 “What?”

 “Latrine.  I always hated this part of expeditions.  Be back in a sec.”

 When she returned Lamb was sat near the fire with a pot of boiling water and Joe was wiping the crumbs from the protein bar off his chin.  He passed the other ones out. The two cups they had would have to be shared, though.

 “You two share a cup of coffee.  I’m going to make the tea Yi Tien Cho gave me when we left his store.  Thankfully I brought it.”

 “Great guy.”  Lamb said.  “That’s got to be stellar tea.”

 They huddled around the fire; despite it being July, the cool morning – when mingled with dew – made for a downright chill.

 Claire took out one of the pouches and looked to see if it was muslin.  “Yea, I can boil it in this bag.” She smelled it first “Mmmmm. Smells like black tea and goji berries.”  As she plopped it in the mug it made a loud thunk.

 Lamb looked up from reading the instructions on the packages of instant coffee.  “Must be a big goji berry.”

 Claire opened the pouch and poured the contents into the cup.  A gold coin stood out among the leaves and berries.  She pulled it out and looked at both sides.

 Joe reached his hand towards her and asked to see it. “This is an 18thcentury half guinea.  Thankfully, at this point Scotland is still using British currency.”

 All three looked at it, confused, then Lamb ran his hand over his face. “He knew.”

 Claire put her hand to her mouth. 

 Joe was concerned: “Can I see the other pouches, Claire?”

 He lined up two half guineas, a guinea, and three five guinea coins. 

 “If I’m right the half guineas are worth about 10 shillings each, the guinea is worth 20 shillings, making the 5 guinea coins – what they called the five pound piece – about 100 shillings each. This will most likely save us.”

 “He was looking out for me.” Claire said.

 “Yes. I think he suspected you might go back, and if you did he wanted you to be prepared. If you didn’t, you could have seen these as just a gift. What an unbelievably kind thing to do. He could have sold these for thousands” Lamb said, still stunned.

 “He most likely got these from the travelers he said came in occasionally” Joe said, still eyeing them closely.

 “One day I’m going to thank him”  Claire said, retying the pouches to keep the tea.

 After they’d eaten and washed they filled up any container they had with spring water then discussed their route. 

“The roads on the map are fairly clear and should be easy enough to follow. We should be there by sunset” Lamb said looking up at the sky.

 “Hey – I need to bring something up.” Joe said.  Lamb and Claire turned to him.

 “You both have british accents.  In any situation with locals, let me talk.  An American accent won’t bring as much worry as a british one will.  We’re travelers from the colonies on our way south to visit friends.  Under NO circumstances do we split apart. And Claire – don’t lose that backpack. For now it’s our life.”

 “Got it.”

 Every few miles they stopped to rest and drink water.  Following the map closely, they knew they were coming up on a fork and needed to veer left.  On a few occasions Lamb noticed horse droppings that in his estimation were about 24-48 hours old.  He noted to himself that these could have been from Jamie and Murtagh’s horses, indicating they were on the right track.

 After several miles the exhausted trio saw lanterns on the front of a small building.  It was a tavern.  “YESSS!” Claire yelled.

  “Our clothes will definitely stand out.  In fact”  Lamb continued “Claire, put this on.  You should be more covered.” He put his jacket on her.  “Any questions that may arise from the wearing of this we’ll address when we leave and only then. Ok?”

 She raised an eyebrow, wrinkled her mouth, then nodded her head.  She began to button the front when she realized what he meant.

“We eat and leave immediately” Joe reminded them.

 Sure enough, as they walked in all eyes turned to them.  A woman, just sitting plates down at a table of several men, eyed them suspiciously.

 “And how may I be helpin’ ye?” the woman spoke, suspicion replaced with a business-like demeanor as she came up to them.

 “We’re traveling south. Would love a meal, then we’ll be on our way” Joe cautiously said.

 She brought them to a table away from the front.

 “Yer not from here” she said to Joe as pints of ale were brought to the table.

“No. I’m from the colonies.” Joe said.

“And what about yer mates?” she said, her arms now folded across her chest as she looked at both Lamb and Claire.

 Unprepared for conversation, Claire went first.

 “We ahrr frahmm the KAH-luh-nee of PINNsillVAYneeuhh.”

 Joe looked up from his tankard.

 “Indeed, as the laydeee said” Lamb continued “we are from PennsilllVAYneuh, which is bellO New Yerk.”

 The woman nodded her head slowly, then her face brightened. 

 “Aye, my dears.  Yer among friends here.  ‘tis alright to say ye left to get yerselves safe. We ken that a war’s brewing.  I hope you yanks blow the British to bits!” she yelled.

 At that the entire tavern hooped, hollered, and banged their tankards on the tables.

 “Did ye walk the whole way, then? I didna see any horses.” 

 “We did walk, yes.  We’re on our way to visit friends.”

 “I’m Mrs. Fitzgibbons, by the way. Mrs. Fitz if ye will.  We’ll be right out with yer food.”  She gave them a kind smile, then went to the door to greet the next group coming in.

 “What just happened…” Joe stared at them both.

 “You said not to talk! You didn’t say what to do if we’d be asked questions.  Criminy! I did the best I could.”  Claire said, glaring back at him.

 Joe shook his head, laughing.  “I almost lost it at KAH-LUH-NEEE.” 

 “It’s harder than you think, OK?”

 Lamb, who’d been staying quiet, finally put in his two _cents_ : “I think I did a pretty good job.”

 “New yerk?”

 “Whatever.”

 Their laughter reached throughout the tavern, causing several customers to raise their mugs to them.

 After a surprisingly satisfying meal, with loads of homemade bread with butter, the trio - heavily soaked in ale - got up to tackle the last leg of their journey.

 “Will ye be wanting dessert then?” Mrs. Fitz said, checking in on them  “I’ve got pies just out of the oven!”

 “We are definitely full. Excellent meals.  How much do we owe? Joe asked.

“Due to yer situation, and having come all this way, 2 shillings will cover it all.  But if yer interested, I have 2 horses out back.”

“For sale?”

“Aye.   Ye see, we havena had many customers of late and, well, we’re”  she looked down “struggling a bit.  Unfortunately, I just sold the saddles but the horses, they’re – I promise ye – strong and healthy.”

 Lamb and Claire both nodded inconspicuously. 

 “So how much for dinner and the horses.”

 “10 shillings?”  She asked with so much hope it nearly broke Joe’s heart.

The money was Claire’s, so Joe deferred to her.  She nodded again.

“If I can see them first, and they’re as good as you say, we have a deal.”

 They all left out the back door of the tavern to where the horses were stabled. Joe deferred to Lamb’s experience because he’d ridden most of his life and used them to do field work at sites.   Lamb checked their teeth first and feet next.  Conformation was sound and they seemed calm.  Overall they were solid, well cared for, and strong.  He gave a nod to Joe.  Claire then pulled a half guinea from her pocket and gave it to Mrs. Fitz.

 “Oh, bless ye!” She drew a hanky from the pocket on her apron and wiped her eyes, then gave them each a crushing hug.  “I’ll bring the horses around. Go to the front and I’ll get ye set.”

 Lamb, Claire and Joe were waiting by the front door as Mrs. Fitz brought them a small satchel.  She also drug a chair with her.

 “Here’s a bit of bread and mutton to eat along the way.  It isna my best, but it’ll keep ye alive.  Where might ye be headed?”

 With neither Joe nor Lamb knowing the name of the estate, they looked worriedly at Claire. “Lally..Brock.”  She was going to say more, but didn’t want to push it.

 “Aye!  Ye’ll be there in but a few hours.  Mind, move to the road on the other side of those trees a short ways down and that will take ye right to it.”

 She waved her hanky at them and walked back into the tavern.  “Just leave the chair outside!”

 Before they got atop the horses Claire grabbed Lamb by his arm.  She looked around before she spoke.

 “WHEN DID YOU GET A GUN?”

 Lamb looked at Joe.

 “YOU BOTH HAVE ONE?”

 They pursed their lips before Lamb answered her first.

 “When all this began with secret notes coming through a stone I suspected Frank might be stalking you and planting those letters. I wasn’t going to let you become a statistic.”

 He hung his head – anything to cover the tears.

 “Then when you came home with the 2nd backpack…I worried he may have been trying to convince you to meet him somewhere.”

 Claire could do nothing but stare back at him, her eyes softening at Lamb’s forethought and instinctive protection.  “Thank you.”  She walked to Lamb and wrapped her arms around him.  “I appreciate all you’ve done, are doing, and will do for me.  I’m sorry if I’ve ever taken you for granted, or ever caused you worry.”

 Lamb hugged her back.  “I’d give my life for you.”  He kissed her on the forehead.

 “So - Isn’t there a waiting period? How did you get it so fast?”

 “I have one, so pulled some strings.” Joe said.

 “Gee willikers.  Ok, well… here ya go.”  She handed Lamb’s jacket back to him.

 They used the chair to get atop the horses, with Claire riding with Lamb.

 Riding side-by-side down the road, Claire panicked:  “WHAT’S OUR STORY WHEN WE GET THERE?”

 “Oooh! Good catch.”

 “We inherited land in Pennsylvania from your parents when they passed; they’d been given it as a land grant a few generations ago.  We’d been living there ever since, and met Joe who was on a neighboring farm. When we heard the British had landed in Boston we left for Europe, coming into Scotland.  We had no family left in England and wanted to stay away from there in case the war shifted sides. Claire – can you fill in?”

 “Ummm. Ok. Jamie and Murtagh were in town for something or other. We were in temporary lodging and met them. The lodging fell through.  We’ve come here to inquire into work and boarding.”

 “Ok. Sounds believable.”

 They rode in silence - half out of weariness, and half out of wonder.

 At one point Joe couldn’t help himself:  “ I THINK we AHR go-inggg to be THUR vair-EEE soon!”

 Claire turned her head towards Joe.

 “Shuttt UHHP.”

 


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate everyone who has been following the story. I know it’s been long! I wanted to be realistic, to provide a thorough backstory to Jamie and Claire, and give depth to them as well as those in their life. Good things take time, and we’re finally at their meeting. I hope you enjoy it. :)

The horses were gentle and dependable, though riding bareback was definitely going to make for prolonged soreness.  Thankfully there were at least bridles and reins.

 “I can’t feel my legs” Claire mumbled into Lamb’s back.  He turned his head to her.  “I’m numb from the neck down.”

 “HOW’S EVERYONE HOLDING UP?” Joe yelled from behind.  Claire raised her fist, then helped Lamb raise his, propping one hand in his armpit and the other to jiggle his arm about.

 They heard Joe laugh. “See! This is what I mean!  We’ve gone soft!”

 They were on a long stretch of road.  The heat was oppressive but they would, as far as they were able to see, be in the shade. What was left of the spring water was being shared, between themselves and the horses, and the bread and mutton was definitely welcome.

 Maneuvering down a hill, they looked to their left and saw a beautiful valley.   Joe noted the fort-like building: “Showtime, ladies and gentlemen.”

 “FYI - His name is Jamie Fraser.  He was with his Godfather Murtagh.”

 Now, this close to meeting him, she became worried.  “What if he’s not there?” “What if he doesn’t exist” The train of thought, chugging along, came to a crashing stop: “What if he’s married?”

 Her stomach turned and she felt like throwing up.

 They trotted into the courtyard and Claire realized she’d have to have some way to introduce herself should Jamie not be the one to answer the door.  She pulled a piece of paper out of the backpack, wrote a quick note, then grabbed a small stone from the ground and tied the note to it.

 “I’m not even going to try the American accent again. Takes too much work.  We’ll just have to wing it and hope they don’t hate us.”  Lamb said, exhausted just thinking of how hard it would be to maintain day after day.

 Joe agreed with him. “Then let’s start with me talking first.  Hopefully that will get us in the door.” As he went to clank the knocker the door opened.  Emily, her eyebrows raised, didn’t say anything right away.  She merely took in the sight of these 3 oddly-dressed, odder -looking travelers.

 “Hello.  My name is Dr. Aber…Mr. Abernathy.  These are my friends.  We’re looking for Jamie Fraser.”

 “And what would ye be needin’ with ‘im?”

 Claire reached into the pocket of her pants and handed her the note she’d tied to the stone. “Would you give him this, please?  He’ll know who it’s from” Claire said, trying to soften her accent so she didn’t frighten Emily any further.

 Emily reluctantly took it and moved aside to let them in.  She shut the door then directed them into the sitting room just off the front door.

 “I’ll be back presently. Please stay here”  she said, pulling the pocket doors shut.

 Claire sat the backpack so it wouldn’t be immediately noticeable. They all looked around the room but Claire noticed the portraits first.  “He said his mother did portraits.  These must be all the children.” She could see a timeline as she walked from one wall to another.  The red-haired boy with the freckles could only be Jamie. 

 There was a bookcase filled with “classics,” a stand in the corner with what was probably a family bible, a Fraser family crest above the fireplace.  Two chairs and a table were sat by the window on which hung heavy floral curtains. The dark wood floors had character from the flaws and unevenness that modern, engineered wood floors did not.   There was a needlepoint sampler framed and hanging among the portraits and a beautiful tartan blanket over the back of one chair. The room was comfortably fitted, and Claire felt both the strength of the inhabitants as well as their warmth. 

 Joe, looking out the window, mused to himself: “I have taught so many classes about 18thcentury Scottish homes, the lore that was passed down, the family’s role as keepers of it… And I’m now stood in an actual one.  This is surreal.”

 Lamb, noticing Claire’s tense state, came up to her:  “Everything will be fine.  And if it ends up not being fine, I’ll make it fine.” Joe came up to them and put his arm around her back: “I’ve got your back.”  She laughed, then kissed them both on the cheek.

 Emily had found Jamie sat in a chair by the hearth as Ellen was boiling vegetables.  He’d come to sit here every evening, near the fire, to remind him of the times by the stones when he and Murtagh sat by the fire in the evenings and he waited to write or receive a letter. She cleared her throat when neither Ellen nor Jamie noticed her.

 “Oh! Yes, Emily. What is it.” Ellen, startled, replied.

 “Ma’am there are 3 people at the door.  They’re…um… travelers, I think.  One said…”  
  
Ellen sighed.  “They stop by occasionally to ask for money.  Go to the pot by the…”  
  
“No, ma’am.  They werena asking for money.  The woman, she asked me to give ye this sir.”

 Jamie turned in his chair as Emily approached him with the stone.  “She said you’d know who it was from.”

 He looked to her, then to the stone that had a note tied to it.  His heart began pounding with hope and anticipation despite the counter-argument in his head.

 Ellen nodded to Emily. “Thank you.”

 “Aye, Ma’am.  They’re in the sitting room” Emily said before leaving.

 Ellen put a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “Do you know this woman?”

 He untied the twine, nodding his head to his mother without looking up, then opened the paper:   
  
“I thought I’d bring this one myself.”

 He stood, tucking the note in his vest, and walked to the front of the house. 

 Brian and Murtagh came in the back door from checking on the calves and started to go to the other room to sit down while dinner cooked when Ellen grabbed them both. 

 “Wait.  There are people here to see Jamie.  One’s a woman who sent him a note.”

 Brian looked at Murtagh whose face froze.

 Claire, jumping at the sound of footsteps outside the room,  wrapped her arms around herself to brace for what may come.

 Jamie hesitated outside. He said a quiet prayer of hope, then gently pulled the doors open.

 The first face he saw was hers.

 The emptiness and pain that had almost come to engulf him began to slowly leave.  He felt a wash of happiness and love. As he walked to her, Claire slowly released her arms; a feeling of completeness and joy overtook her.

 Gently, reverently, he touched her cheek.

 “ _Claire?”_

_“Yes.”_

He put his arms around her, kissing her temple through the dusty clump of curls that was gathered there.

 “ _Ye look just like yer portrait”_ he whispered.

  _“You don’t!”_ she whispered back.

 Claire could feel him laugh.

 He looked from her to the men standing beside them, then Claire pulled away from Jamie’s embrace and wiped her eyes.

 “This is my Uncle, Dr. Quentin Lambert Beauchamp.”

 Jamie offered his hand. “tis a pleasure, Sir. An honor.  Yer a scientist?”

 “I am.”

 “And this is a dear family friend, Dr. Joe Abernathy”

 Jamie offered his hand again. “An honor, sir.  Yer a scientist as well?”

 “Yes.”

 Realizing what she had just endured, his face paled and he took both of her hands in his.

 “A Dia!  Are ye alright?  Have ye need of anything?” He looked to each one of them.

 “We’re fine.” Claire quickly replied.  “It was an …indescribable experience.”

 Brian and Ellen had gathered in the doorway with Willie, Murtagh, Jenny and Emily moving their heads behind them to see inside.

 “Son, would ye care to introduce us?” Brian said above all the posturing.

 “Mam, Da – this is Claire. She…”

 “They met in town. When we were in town. That’s where they met….in town…….When we were there” Murtagh stammered from the back to keep Jamie from possibly revealing too much.

 “Oh. Aye. And the gentlemen are her Uncle, Doctor Quentin Beauchamp, and their dear friend Doctor Joe Abernathy.”  

 Brian and Ellen’s gaze went from the unusual strangers as a whole to the startling sight of Jamie holding Claire’s hand. 

 “They’ve traveled…”  Jamie looked to Claire, Lamb and Joe – “a _verra_ great distance.  May they have dinner with us?”

 Brian and Ellen glanced to each other with a look of confusion and surprise. “Of course!”

 As Jamie lead them out of the room he introduced them to the rest of his family.

 “Claire, Doctor Lambert and Doctor Abernathy, this is my Godfather Murtagh, my sister Jenny, my brother Willie, and Emily, our housemaid.’  Almost in unison the family greeted them with  “welcome.”

 “Thank you for having us” Joe said, looking to Lamb who followed with “Yes, we’re very grateful.”

 “I’m sorry if we’re interrupting.” Claire said.

 “Nay, dear.   ‘tis a pleasure to have ye” Jamie quickly assured her.

 An awkward silence then landed heavily among the group. Brian, to break it, guided everyone into the kitchen. 

 Jamie kept his hand on Claire’s back as they walked to the table. Assembling everyone required some maneuvering and some extra chairs but it was managed well.  Ellen brought the roasts and boiled vegetables to the table, along with rolls and butter.    Willie lead the family in blessing the meal then Ellen started to plate the food.

 Brian began to ask after his guests but Jamie interrupted: “I met Claire while we were in town. We talked over the few days we were there.  Unfortunately, we had to part but I’m happy she came to visit with her family.”

 Brian still had questions: “Dr. Abernathy, yer accent says you’re from the colonies?”

 Joe looked to Claire and Lamb, realizing the story they’d devised was unnecessary.

 “Yes, from the colony of Pennsylvania.  I’m visiting Scotland to do research, while Lambert and Claire are here from England doing research of their own.  We’ve known each other for a while.”

 “We heard of the fighting in the colonies.  Are ye both divided in your loyalties then?”  Ellen asked, determined to know if they were British sympathizers.

 “We’re decidedly for the patriots in their fight for freedom”  Lamb said. Joe nodded his agreement for everyone to see. Appeased, Ellen resumed eating her meal. 

 “Ye needn’t worry.  Ye’ll be cared for here” Jamie said in soft reassurance over the light din of eating and drinking.   When Claire met his eyes he continued:  “I promise.”

 

 

 


	32. Chapter 32

After dinner, while everyone was filing into the living room, Jamie pulled his mother aside: “Mam, I expect they’ll be needing accommodations for a while. Could…”

“I’ve already thought it through. We can set some cots in the storage room for Lambert and Joe. There’s a spare bed in the cellar that can be brought up for Claire to sleep on in Jenny’s room. I’ll have Emily bring basins and soap.”

“Uh, Aye. Thank ye.”

Ellen motioned with a tilt of her head that they needed to get back to their guests.

Brian was passing out drams of whiskey to the adults, while Willie and Jenny played a game on the floor.

“Was yer ride here an easy one I hope?” Brian asked Joe as he handed him a glass. “I see ye have horses without saddles.”

“We were obliged to accept what was available, but the ride was uneventful.”

“What is the type of research yer here to conduct?”

“Mainly sociological” Joe replied. Seeing the confusion the term brought, he clarified himself: “Studies on the practices and customs of Scottish people.”

“And yer here doing the same type?” Brian asked both Claire and Lamb as he handed them their glasses.

Claire replied: “My Uncle and I have conducted a great deal of archaeological research around the world, most recently in Egypt.” She forced herself to immediately recall the dates of certain discoveries, particularly King Tutankhamun’s tomb, so she didn’t divulge anything that was not yet common knowledge. “The standing stones are what we started to focus on when we got here, along with the Druid. So, we had planned to do a great deal of research in this.”

“Is there noteworthy finds here abouts?” Brian inquired further.

“There are.” Lamb jumped in.

Brian, now sitting beside Ellen, nodded his head and scratched at his beard. “Well, we’re happy to have ye in our home.” He turned his head slightly aside to Ellen who took the cue.

“Claire, we’ll have ye in Jenny’s room, and yer Uncle and Joe will be set up in our storage room. I’ll have Emily get your beds together and bring ye basins and soap.”

“Thank you. You’re very kind.” Lamb said, then “The horses – might they board in your stable?”

“I’ll get them stabled before bed” Murtagh said, eyeing Jamie before he went out the door.

Jamie, anxious for more time with Claire, shot up from his chair to show them where they would be staying.

“I’ll lead ye to our storage room. I apologize it’s not a proper room. We’ll work on something more appropriate” Jamie said, looking behind to Joe and Lamb who were following him.

“Considering our unannounced arrival, we appreciate what you have to offer.” Joe said, looking at everything in the house on his way.

Claire poked her head in behind Jamie to see the room where they would be sleeping. “Be sure to put your things away properly” she said, a veiled reference to their guns. “And sleep well. I love you both.”

“Love you too, and we will” they both said, acknowledging her reference.

Jamie lead the way upstairs with Claire. “Be mindful, though. Jenny snores something awful. I can hear her across the hall every night.”

Claire snickered, and Jamie winked at her.

In the hall, Brian and Ellen were about to go in their room. Claire excused herself by walking into Jenny’s room.

“G’night Mam, Da.” Jamie said.

Brian patted his son on the arm then went into his and Ellen’s bedroom. Ellen hung back. She looked at her son closely, noting the absence of pain and worry in his eyes and the smile that hadn’t left his face since the trio arrived. “Good night, son. We’ll tend to them. Dinna worry. And be more careful, aye?”

“Of what?”

“I noticed yer kilt pin’s gone missing.”

Jamie only nodded.

Ellen kissed him on his cheek. “Good night son.”

After she’d closed the door to the bedroom she met eyes with Brian who was sitting on the end of the bed removing his stockings and boots.

“I think we have the reason behind his moping and unhappiness” she said as she began undressing.

“Aye, milady. And her name is Claire.”

“There is something odd about them. A woman wearing long breeches? And what of her shoes? I’ve never seen anything of the like. I had thought colonial citizens’ attire was still somewhat similar to ours.”

“Well, she did say she’s traveled with her Uncle. Quite possible a long dress with stays wouldna work so well at the Egyptian pyramids.”

“Jamie’s smitten, to be sure. The light is back in his eyes.”

“Murtagh seemed pretty tight-lipped, aye? Something’s amiss, but I’ll no dwell on it. Claire’s quite the lass – educated and traveled. Says a lot that her family are with her too.”

“Aye.” Ellen, now in her shift, arched her back and stretched her arms.

“Will ye mind havin’ a few more people in the house with ye during the day?”

“To be quite honest, I will. I enjoy conversation and I’d like to know more about them.”

“And Jamie’s sure to be as agreeable as a fawn, so this has been a somewhat fortuitous turn of events.” Brian said as he blew out the candle and cradled his beloved wife to his side.

“Claire?” Jamie yelled through the open door.

“Yes?”

“I’m going to bring up yer bed. I’ll be right back.

“Alright. Thank you.”

Several minutes later Jamie brought in the frame and slats and quickly put the bed together, placing a feather and down mattress inside. He maneuvered the bed to sit next to Jenny’s then waited outside with Claire for Emily to fit it with bedding. He took advantage of their time alone:

“Claire, I dinna think it best to discuss your travels at present. Do ye agree?”

“Of course! We tried to answer as best as we could without divulging too much.”

Jamie held Claire’s hand. He traced each finger, then looked lovingly into her eyes.

“I meant what I said at the table. Ye’ll be cared for here. I’ll make sure of it. Whatever ye need, anything at all, I’ll do what I can to get it for ye though….”

He paused, pursing his lips.

“..I gather we won’t have all yer used to from yer time. But what we don’t have that ye may need, I’ll fashion it for ye. Just tell me, aye?”

“Thank you” Claire said, running her hand over Jamie’s face. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Aye. I look forward to it.”

Just then Jenny came up behind them both and held the door open for Claire.

“Goodnight Jamie” Claire said with an air of seriousness.

“And goodnight to ye as well Claire” Jamie said in mock seriousness too.

He floated across the hall to his room, floated inside, then shut the door.

He glanced over to see Willie sitting up in bed, his hands in his lap.

Jamie washed and dressed for bed. He slowly sat on the edge and folded his hands in his lap to mimic Willie.

For a few minutes they stayed this way, then Willie unclasped his hands to speak:

“Ye look at Claire the way Dad looks at Mam.”

Jamie smiled, shook his head, then blew out the candle that was sat on the table between their beds.

“Goodnight Willie.”

“Goodnight Jamie.”


	33. Chapter 33

Jamie woke very early. Actually, he was up most of the night so he felt like he never went to sleep at all. “She’s here.  Actually here in my home. With me” he mulled to himself while looking out his window.

 One of the things his Da had told him about women, through the example of marriage, was that how you treat your spouse shows your bairns how to treat theirs.  But just as importantly, you show your spouse how to treat you by how you treat them.  “Want to be treated like a King? Treat her like a Queen.”

 It really was as simple as that.  So, for his Queen’s first morning she would receive flowers.

 He wasn’t sure how late she’d sleep, but more than likely she would not be up before he, his Da, Willie, and Murtagh left to work.  This would give him time to fetch some wildflowers from outside. She had risked her life coming through time and traveled miles to reach him.  This, for as long as Jamie was alive, would endear him to her and ensure his love, loyalty, and respect. 

 He quietly crept through the house, avoiding the areas on the floor he knew always squeaked the loudest. Getting to the back door, then, was maneuvering through a maze to avoid land mines.  He’d done it as a child, and more so when he became a teenager, when his appetite grew as fast as his frame and he’d need to sneak to the kitchen in the middle of the night for leftovers. 

 Thankfully there was sufficient moonlight when he stepped outside. Despite some of the flowers being closed, they would surely open before she woke. There were violets, forget-me-nots, morning glory, and daisies. Getting all he could, and adding some of his mother’s roses, he tied them with twine and left them softly outside her door with a wee note: “Good Morning my dearest Claire.”

 Crawling back in bed so as not to stir Willie, Jamie knew he wouldn’t find any rest. His mind continued to race: “If she was one to enjoy talking, I’ll be an attentive listener; if she was more of a quiet type, I’ll be gentle and kind, maybe tell her stories.  If she enjoyed activity, I’ll take her on walks to see the property, or ride the horses. Does she like to stay at home? That would be wonderful – we could draw and paint and read and talk.”

 Suddenly it was 5:00 am and Brian was at his side.  Jamie must have fallen asleep for he hadn’t even heard Willie get up. 

 “Son” Brian whispered “ye dinna have to help today.  Be with Claire and her family. Attend to them, aye?  Ye can join us tomorrow if ye feel it appropriate.”

 “Thank ye, Da.  I appreciate it.”

 After Brian left, Jamie peeked out his door to see if she’d gotten her letter.  It was still laying on the floor.  “I’ll get their breakfast ready then.”

 He dressed and went to the kitchen where Ellen, Emily, and Jenny were whirling about, having just fed Brian, Murtagh and Willie before they left.

 “Mam – may I make plates for Claire and her family? I see yer busy.  I’ll take their care upon myself.”

 “Aye, love, that would be grand.  I’ve sausage and eggs left with butter and jam for biscuits.”

 Joe and Lamb, at that moment, appeared in the kitchen. 

 “The smell is wonderful!  It roused us from sleep!”

 “Aye, it is!  Happy Morning to ye.” Jamie said.

 “And a Happy Morning to you as well.”  Lamb said. “Is Claire awake yet?”

 “She is now.” came Claire’s voice as she appeared in the kitchen.  “What is that amazing smell?”

 Everyone laughed. “I’ve not had such a chorus of compliments in quite a while!”  Ellen said, handing plates to Jamie.

 Claire caught Jamie’s eye and mouthed “Thank you.”  He smiled, his heart nearly bursting with joy at seeing her. “Yer Welcome” he mouthed back.

 He helped her into her seat, then took the one next to her. Breakfast conversation was minimal, though enjoyable. Claire looked over to Jenny and Emily: “Thank you both for helping us last night.  I appreciate the night clothes and bed.”

 Jenny, more excited for Claire's visit than she felt was appropriate to express, nodded in acknowledgement: “I have a few others if the one I gave ye isna to your liking.”

 “It will be fine.  I’d not brought extra clothes with me, unfortunately.”

 Ellen considered that none of the guests seemed to have brought anything, and spoke to assure them:  “We’ll find what we can fer ye. Dinna be troubled.”

 Afterwards Claire got up to clear away the table but Ellen stopped her. “Ye dinna need to help, Claire, though I appreciate the offer.  Yer our guests.”

 Claire, Lamb, and Joe – unsure what to do next – looked at each other. 

 “Would ye like to see the house now that it’s light?  We can even go about the property as well.  Check on the horses” Jamie said, rising from the table.

 “That would be most welcome” Lamb said.  “Let us wash up first?”

 “Oh, aye. Of course.”

 Lamb pulled Claire aside once they were alone in the sitting room.  “Is there any toothpaste and toothbrushes in your backpack?”  

 “Or razors” Joe said, running his hands over the beginning of a beard.

 “We’ll have to be discreet about it, but yes there are.  I’m most in need of deodorant.  But…” Claire said, thinking to herself. “Should you try to blend in? Start a beard maybe?  You’ll definitely stand out being freshly shaven each day.”

 Lamb and Joe looked longingly at the disposable razors, knowing that the growing-in period for a beard was the worst time: itchy, uncomfortable, and not something they were excited to endure.

 “I suppose you’re right…” Lamb said, eyeing Joe to gauge his reaction.  
  
“FINE.” 

 The three of them hovered over her backpack, gathering what else they’d need for their morning wash.

 “I’ll take this upstairs and keep it under my bed.  Sneak in whenever you need something, but don’t let on what we have.”

 “I’ll be bringin’ ye some fresh water” Emily said from the doorway to the sitting room, causing the three to yelp in surprise.

 “OH! Uh -  Thank you Emily”  Claire said, turning her back to what they were scrounging for and from. Emily wrinkled her eyebrows then proceeded up the stairs with the pitcher. 

 “Here – shove these in your pockets.”  Claire handed Lamb and Joe toothbrushes, and small tubes of toothpaste and deodorant.

 “Claire” Lamb said “How do you feel about offering one of the five-pound pieces to them.  Our care has to become a burden at some point, and we’re going to need clothes.”

 “Yea. I was thinking the same thing.  Would you offer it to Brian today?”  Claire said, pulling one out of her pocket.  After she handed it to Lamb, she burst into giggles.  
  
“What?”  Joe said, looking at her seriously despite how hard she was laughing.

 “You two in kilts.” She barely got it out before she erupted again.

 “Well I’ll have you know, _Missy_ , that I’ve got quite handsome knees” Joe said, crossing his arms.

 “And I’m going to fancy some _stockings and boots”_ Lamb said crossing his own.

 Her laughter quickly stopped.

 “Oh my word.  I’m going to be in about 8 layers of uncomfortable. I’ve no choice though unless I wash everything. My khaki’s and shirt are filthy, not to mention my socks.” 

 She sighed.

 “Small price for love.”

 

 

 

 


	34. Chapter 34

After a heartfelt tour through the house - remarking on family heirlooms, Ellen’s portraits, their coat of arms and the meaning behind je suis prêt, and the home’s history - Jamie took his guests outside.

“Da, Willie, Murtagh and I are in the fields, barns, and stables at work during the day. A farm such as ours requires careful and constant tending. We’ve just begun to shear our longwool sheep.” 

“You make clothing and such for yourselves, then?” Joe asked.

“Aye. Mam, Jenny, and Emily craft quite a bit.”

Joe made a mental note of the estate’s workings and history that Jamie mentioned as they walked away from the house. He realized that having a journal was going to be very useful; both for observations and conclusions, but also to amend or confirm what he’d come to know. “I’m going to have some mighty fine lessons….” Joe thought out of habit. As a professor, you are constantly looking for new material for lessons, presentations, and possible book ideas. But then his heart felt tight: “…if we ever go back.”

“Hey Joe” Lamb said, somewhat obviously, “Lookit that…uh.. thing over there. Let’s have a looksee, huh?”

“Oh. Yes. I had noticed that thing too. Seems interesting.”

With that, both men wandered off.

Claire laughed to herself and shook her head. “I love those goofballs.”

“Aye?”

“Oh. It’s a term of endearment. It’s for someone who is being funny.”

Jamie looked blankly back at her.

“There isn’t an interesting thing. It’s an excuse to give us time alone.”

“Ahhhh.” 

Jamie put his hand out and Claire took it. They strolled over the grounds, the magnificent Scottish highlands enveloping them. One of the things she was most looking forward to re-experiencing was the absence of light pollution; she’d not seen the heavens and stars in such clarity and magnificence since she was in Egypt.

Joe and Lamb walked slowly to the nonexistent thing through the knee-high grass, startling some resting grasshoppers into flight. 

Joe stopped. “What’s up?”

Lamb, several steps ahead of him, turned around. “A whole lot.”

“Want to get anything off your chest?”

“Well, foremost, he’s real after all. And he has a family, and an estate in the 18th century.”

“Yup.”

“And he’s noticeably in love with her.”

“Yup again.”

“And she’s as noticeably in love with him.”

Joe nodded his head this time.

“Just a few weeks ago none of this existed.”

Joe caught up to him, his hands behind his back – traditional Abernathy thinking posture – and looked at the skyline. “Anything else?”

“I’m kind of tired of wearing these clothes.”

Jamie and Claire, hand-in-hand, walked in the other direction. 

“I canna believe yer here. I thought I’d never see ye – that ye’d be the stuff of dreams for the rest of my life.”

“I was sitting on the ground by the stone, holding your last letter, thinking the same thing. All I remember is walking off with my Uncle and Joe and then we woke up here on the ground.”

Jamie pulled her hand, clasped tightly in his, to his mouth for a kiss. “And my life is all the more happy for it.” He looked into her eyes – the same ones he’d memorized from repeatedly looking at her portrait – and considered what he had just said. “I dinna mean that I’d have wished ye to endure any pain for it. I…”

“Jamie.” Claire lifted his head. “I know what you meant.”

He smiled. “Thank ye.”

They continued walking until they came to a stone building. One side had 3 arched windows, likely mimicked on the other side, and the front had arched wooden doors with iron hinges. 

“This is beautiful!” Claire remarked, pulling away from Jamie and walking towards it. The cornerstone read “Iosa Crìosd a 'phrìomh chlach-oisinn”* She ran her hands over the chiseling. 

“It’s our chapel. Da gives service on Sundays. We’ve all been baptized here. Would ye like to go in?”

“Absolutely!”

He walked up to the entrance, unlocked the “antique” iron slide bolt, then held it open for her to go in. They were first in a small anteroom with a stoup on each side. 

Breathtaking in its simplicity, and yet designed with great care and attention, she was immediately drawn to the beamed ceiling as she stepped into what could be the nave. There was an alcove at the front with a stained glass window above it that was a scene of Christ holding a lamb. Underneath, hanging predominantly in the middle, was a large wooden cross. A built-in shelf held the remnants of burnt candles.

Sat in front of all of this was a large wooden lectern, and to its side was a gorgeous carved marble bowl on a pedestal, about 3 feet high, with some type of celtic cross on the front. She knew it must be for baptisms.

6 benches, 3 on each side, were the only seating.

“We’ve a bell tower” Jamie said softly, waiting for Claire to take in everything “but have no reason to ring it as we’re the only ones who attend.”

“It’s very peaceful. Serene.” Claire said, reaching to hold Jamie’s hand again.

“The rocks were hauled from the river.”

She lead him to one of the windows, out of which she saw headstones. “Your family are buried here.” She said it more as an observation than a question. 

“Aye.” 

Claire took Jamie’s hand and put it behind her back, putting hers around his. She leaned into his shoulder.

Joe and Lamb, being done with the nothing investigation, returned to reunite with Jamie and Claire. They quietly approached the doorway.

“I have a feeling this will be a scene we’ll be witnessing again at some point.” Lamb said, a catch in his voice.

“Yup.”

 

* “Jesus Christ the Chief Cornerstone” (A scripture from the book of Ephesians.)


	35. Chapter 35

Before dinner that evening, Lamb caught Brian as they went into the kitchen.

 “I want to thank you, first, for allowing Jamie to be with us today.  We were very glad to spend time with him.  You have a remarkable estate….and a remarkable son.”

 “Thank ye.  He’s a good lad.  We’re very proud of him” Brian said, looking at Lamb inquisitively,  but with concern.

 “Secondly, I’d like to give you this.”

 Lamb handed him the five-pound piece. “I expect our stay may be lengthier than we’d anticipated. Until we’re able to secure alternate boarding, this is for any expense you may incur on our behalf.”

 Brian was momentarily stunned.

 “We’ll contribute to the work involved in keeping the farm running, of course, or help wherever else you deem necessary.”

 “This is very generous. I hope I didna imply…”

 “No. No, of course not. But we showed up unexpectedly, and you’ve been very accommodating. And there’s the issue of…”   Lamb took notice of his trousers  “Well, we left rather abruptly, and have no change of clothes.”

 Brian laughed.  “We’ll get ye all righted in that regard.  But please dinna feel any need to look elsewhere to live.  Yer welcome here. Come, let’s eat.”

 Dinner and the rest of the evening proceeded much as it had before. While everyone conversed in the living room after dinner, Jamie sat on the floor at Claire’s feet playing a version of “pick up sticks” with Jenny and Willie, keeping hold of her hand as she leaned over from the sofa to watch.

 When bedtime came, Claire said goodnight to everyone – checking in on Lamb and Joe - and went upstairs with Jamie.  In the hall, outside both of their rooms, he quietly remarked that he’d be at work the next day and unable to spend any time with her until lunch.  “It isna that I don’t want to, ye must know.  It’s just that it takes every hand to keep things running.”

 “I completely understand. I appreciate your time today.”

 “Mam will care for ye, and your family.  Whatever ye need, just ask.” 

 “Thank you.”

 He let go of her hands, then opened the door to Jenny’s room for her.  “Sleep well.”  Claire smiled up and him, then closed the door behind her.

 While Ellen unbraided her hair at her vanity, Brian sat the coin in front of her as he went to prepare for bed.  Startled, she looked at him in her mirror.

 “Lambert gave this to me today.” Brian said, sitting on the end of the bed removing his boots.  “Said their stay may be long.  Offered to help with work.”

 “My word.”

 “I know the worry of having 3 other mouths to feed has passed unsaid between us. This is a relief, no?”

 “Aye. Indeed.”

 “They’ve need of clothes, o’course.  Have we means?”

 “I can put together something for Claire from Jenny’s old dresses and shoes.  And there should be enough for Lamb and Joe, but we’ll need to get them boots.”

 “I’ll see the shoemaker, then.”

 Brian pulled Ellen’s side of the bedding down, then got into bed himself.  He noticed her absent-mindedly brushing her hair.

 “Ye’ll have no hair left if ye dinna stop brushing it.  Are ye worrit, Mrs. Fraser?”

 She smiled, then looked towards the bed. “No, Mr. Fraser.” She sat her brush down then went to lie in bed, pulling the covers over herself.  Brian reached over to his nightstand and blew out the candle.

 As she curled into his arms, she remarked: “All along he knew what he was looking for.  I’m proud of him for fighting for it.”

 “I agree.  He’s already become devoted to Claire and they arena even betrothed.”

 “Every time Claire moved he was up like a shot to get her whatever she wanted.”

 “As we taught him, aye?”

 “He learned well” Ellen said, kissing Brian’s shoulder.

 Early the next morning Jamie left flowers and a note outside of Claire’s door again: “ _I will be thinking of you, my darling Claire.  Jamie.”_

He, Brian, Murtagh and Willie ate heartily and left to work. Brian decided to include Lamb and Joe later on. Shearing the sheep was the first chore. When finished, the wool would need to be boiled to clean it and to extract lanolin which was a critical component in soaps and such for its moisturizing capability.  A few cauldrons were set to boil, the wool was laid into it and left overnight. In the morning they would skim lanolin off the top and place it into containers to harden, taking the wool out to be washed and dried separately. Sheep were an integral part of a farm; in addition to the wool and lanolin, they provided meat and fertilizer.

 It was during the process of dunking the wool into vats of water,  in a small shed near the sheep pen, that Murtagh – alone with Jamie – was finally able to speak to him for the first time since Claire arrived.

Rinsing the shears in a bucket of soapy water to clean them, Murtagh looked over at his Godson who was putting lids on the cauldrons after putting out the fires. “Good to be at home, aye?”

 Jamie smiled: “’tis now that Claire is with me.”

 “Quite the shock, her appearing.”

 “Aye.  I told her I thought she’d only be in my dreams the rest of my life.”

 Murtagh wiped each pair of scissors with a rag, then laid them to dry on a table. He leaned against it, lifting his head as if the motion alone would remove the pungent smell of boiled wool permeating the shed. Jamie was transforming every day; his vigor, happiness and focus were re-emerging.  Quite honestly, he was outworking all of the men and didn’t seem to be letting up.

 “Strangest set of affairs I’ve ever come across”  Murtagh said, staring at the ceiling of the shed with his arms crossed over his chest.

 “Ye’ve no argument from me on that count.” 

 “She’s a wise lass, to be sure.  And her Uncle and…Doctor?  Is that the title used for Joe?”

 “Aye.  I gather it’s due to their extensive education. They’re scientists of some sort in their time.”

 Murtagh nodded, stroking his beard.  “Well, best be onto the next job.  I’ll meet ye at the stable.  The horses' hooves need tending.”

 Back in the house, Claire helped with breakfast clean up and asked Ellen what else she could do.

 “There’s no end to the darning.  If ye’d be of a mind that would be verra helpful.”

 Ellen, kneading dough for loaves of bread they were to have for lunch and dinner, tilted her head towards the other room.  “The sewing basket is sat by the fireplace.”

 Claire nodded, slowly, worried at her ability to complete this simple task. She found the basket then sat in a chair. Opening it revealed all manner of items: buttons, thread, ribbon, shears, thimbles, a hand-made pincushion…nearly everything that she had rarely ever used.  Laying underneath were several stockings with holes in them. She took a deep breath: “Beauchamp, you are a strong, capable, intelligent woman.  You can do this.”

 After three-quarters of an hour she’d not made much progress. 

 Ellen, appearing at her side, gently took the somewhat butchered stocking out of her hand:

“Did yer Mam no teach ye darning or needlepoint then?”  

 The stab to Claire’s heart was palpable in the wave of shaking and tears.  Being there, in the home of such a close, loving family had only magnified the irregular upbringing she’d had with Lamb.  No, she didn’t learn to knit, or darn, or embroider, or cook anything other than what was easily prepared at a dig.  She’d not had any female mentors in the teams of men they’d worked with. Though gifted with an artistic eye, her extensive geographic exposure and a proficiency in science and technology were her strongest suits. Consequently, she lacked in the managing of a home in favor of the managing of a campsite.

Ellen bent down in front of her. “Claire, I’m sorry lass. I didna mean to upset ye.”

“My parents died in an accident when I was very young.  Lamb took over as my guardian.  I didn’t really have a woman to teach me these things” she blurted, nervously placing her hair behind her ear.

Ellen wrapped her arms around Claire.  “I’m so sorry, love.  I truly am. Please forgive me” she whispered. Claire allowed herself to weep in Ellen’s arms and to feel the warmth of a mother’s love.

“Dinna ye fash.  If ye care to learn, we’ll teach ye.”  Ellen pulled a hanky from her apron and handed it to Claire. “Maybe, with yer knowledge of the world, ye can help with teaching Geography and Latin to Jenny and Willie?”

“I’d love to!  I’m bound to do a better job than darning.” Looking at the stocking that Ellen had sat on the floor, they both laughed.

 

 

 

 


	36. Chapter 36

After service in the chapel, on a late September afternoon, the family were enjoying time away from working.

 Claire, Lamb and Joe were settling into their new environment with ease. The work, even, had become cathartic.  Though Joe may not have suspected it, Lamb had grown weary of academic halls and evenings of television too.  He had always felt alive, with a purpose, when he was waist-deep in mud and rock at an archaeological site.  But this kept him always traveling from one site to another, from country to country. What he had secretly, almost imperceptibly yearned for was doing what he was doing with the Frasers.  The strong family dynamic and home-based existence was comforting, as it was to Claire. One area, though, was causing a bit of strife: clothing. It would be where the most adaptation was required. Their period attire was time-consuming and uncomfortable.  Going from trousers to “skirts” wasn’t that much of an adjustment for Claire; definitely more so for the men.

 The three were sharing a moment alone in the sitting room. They could talk more freely, more naturally, and found these short breaks kept them grounded.  

 “I’m just now getting an idea of what a lady in a skirt has to deal with when sitting down – the adjusting to make sure you’re covered.” Lamb said, getting used to wearing a kilt.

 “Well, it sure does alleviate all the zippering, buttoning and…pinching.”  Joe whispered.    But to what you said” Joe remarked, looking at Lamb, “it must be a spectacle riding a horse. For a number of reasons.”

 Claire jumped in while Lamb was nodding and smirking his agreement to Joe’s observation:  “My petticoats, overcoats and drawstrings are definitely going to take some getting used to– as will other things! But like you said at the beginning, Joe, I’m going to ride with it. Wait for the good.”

 Joe put his hand up for a high-five.

 Just outside in the living room, Emily was sitting with Juniper and Berry – the family’s Shetland sheepdogs – when they excitedly ran to the door. Pulling the curtains aside, she saw a woman and man arriving in the courtyard. Noticing Emily in the window, Glenna waved.  This brought an equally enthusiastic wave of greeting from Emily as she ran to open the door.

 “Oh, dearie!  How are ye?” Glenna said, hugging Emily.

 “I’m well, thank ye!”

 Glenna took the basket the young man was holding and handed it to Emily. “I’ve brought some pies. Blackberry and Apple.”

 Hearing the dogs’ yips, the rest of the family came from various parts of the house.  Guests were rare; neighbors could be miles away which lent a bit of festiveness when one actually arrived.

 Ellen and Jamie strode to embrace Glenna.  “Glenna!  It’s been too long.   And is this…”

 “Aye. My youngest, Henry.”

 “Pleased to see ye again.”

 “And we’re pleased to see ye too!”

 “Jamie!  Come here, lad.”  Glenna extended another hug.

 Emily lifted the basket for Ellen to see. “She’s brought us two pies!”

 “Ye didna have to. Yer company is delight enough.” Ellen said, her arm around Glenna.

 “Yer too kind.  I couldna show up without a treat.”

 “What do we owe yer visit to?”

 “I came to check on the lady and gentlemen who stopped by the tavern a time back.  They said they were on their way here.  Wanted to be sure they arrived safely.”

 “Yes, they’re here.  Please come in.  We’ll have some tea.”

 Jamie excused himself and quietly stepped into the sitting room. He accepted that they would want to be alone from time to time in order to make sense of their new life, so refrained – whenever possible - from interrupting them when this occurred.

 “We’ve a guest that says she knows ye.  Would ye be agreeable to have tea with them?”

 The three turned almost in synch.  “Us?” Claire said. 

 “Aye.  ‘tis Miss Glenna.”

 6 wrinkled eyebrows looked back at him.

 “Ye must have stopped at the tavern on yer way here, no?”

 “We did” Joe said.

 “Then yer sure to have met Mrs. Fitz, the owner.”

 “Ohhhhh” they said, in varying degrees.  “Lead the way!”

 Recognizing them immediately, Glenna ran to them, grasping each in another engulfing hug. “Come, then. Have some pie. Ye didna have any before.”

 “We didn’t introduce ourselves before. I apologize for that.  I’m Claire, this is my Uncle Lambert, and our friend Joe.”

 “Well, whether I knew yer names or not I’ll not soon forget ye.”

 Jamie, standing at the sink and plating pieces, looked over at Claire and smiled.  Claire signaled with her hands that she wanted a large piece. Jamie held up the blackberry with a questioning look.  Claire gave him a thumbs up.  He wasn’t entirely sure what it meant, but she seemed happy so he went with it.

 After the guests got re-acquainted, Glenna became serious.

 “There’s been word come ‘round that there are casualties in the colonies.  General Washington, I ken, had a defeat in…New York.  Did ye say ye had lived near there?” She asked Joe.

 “In Pennsylvania. The colony south of New York.”

 “Aye. I see.”

 “There was a young Continental Lieutenant, Nathan Hale, as was caught by the British and…”

 Glenna looked down at her hands in her lap.

 After a few moments of silence, Brian raised his glass of whiskey.  “In remembrance of  Lieutenant Hale, and to the rest of the Continental Army. May they fully route the British.”

 “They’ll prevail.  I feel it in my heart.” Joe said.  “They’ve an indomitable spirit.”

 “Aye” came a chorus with raised glasses and cups.

 “We’ll need to be getting back before the sun goes down, so I’ll be takin’ my leave now.”  Glenna said, rising.   “I’m pleased to know ye made it safely here” she said across the table to Claire, Lamb and Joe. “Thank ye for the company. Dinna be strangers, aye?” she said, waving at everyone as she went out the door.

 After she’d left, Jamie reached for Claire’s hand to take her outside while everyone settled into the living room.  “We’re going for a walk.”

 Brian smiled his approval and nodded his head.

 But once outside, Jamie sat on the stoop and motioned for Claire to sit beside him.

 “Ye ken the war, then?”

 “I do.  Nathan Hale is a national hero.  He was attempting to get intelligence from the British when he was found out and hanged.”

  Jamie looked out onto the land.  Culloden had long since passed, but it’s mark on the hearts of all Scots was indelible.  He’d been born several years after the humiliating loss, but still grew up with stories of what it was like to be the underdog to an oppressive, brutal and overpowering foe.  He seethed with anger at what was most assuredly a noble soldier dying at the hands of the British, and prayed that the colonists would prevail, and prevail mightily.

 Claire, seeing pain and anger in equal measures move across Jamie’s face, grasped his hand tightly.

 “I know of Culloden, if that’s what’s troubling you.”

 “Aye.”

 “Well, if it’s not too unacceptable, I’ll let you in on a little something.”

 Jamie, shaking off the darkness that had come so quickly to his soul, turned towards Claire.  “I wilna ever ask ye to share anything ye care not to divulge, but if yer willing, I’ll listen.”

 A smile slowly broadened across her face.  She took both of his hands in hers and looked into his curious eyes: “The colonists fight with no uniforms and with barely any provisions.  Many died of disease and starvation. But one day, in a few years, the British get most assuredly routed and it’s amazing.”

 Jamie’s face filled with relief.   “’tis fine news indeed.”

 He hung his head, then lifted it and moved an errant curl from her face.

 “Claire, I…”

 Claire ran the back of her hand over his face, allowing her fingers to find and caress the auburn curls at the back of his neck.

 “Me too.”

 He leaned in and kissed her. She felt him smile before he pulled away.

 “This is everything I’ve dreamt of.  Ye…Ye came to me…”  His eyes ran over with tears.

 “No more loneliness.” She sweetly kissed him again. “For either of us.”

 Just then the door opened and a deep-throated ‘ahem’ came from the doorway.  Murtagh looked at the two over the smoke from his pipe: “Doesna look like much walking is being done” he said with the slightest hint of a smile.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Popping back in to say how much I appreciate all of you. :)

Fall had decidedly come upon the farm.  Crisper temperatures were turning vast highland landscapes from green to stages of yellow and orange. The birds, so active and vocal in the spring, were now only a random warble; in their place was the single chorus of crickets.

Despite what mother nature was portending, work on the farm wouldn’t stop. Piling cured hay into the hay barn one morning, Lamb remembered that Claire’s birthday was in less than a month.  He stopped and leaned on his pitchfork.  His first instinct was to phone in a flower delivery or make dinner reservations. Without these, he would have to find something else.

 The barn was quiet and comforting.  Lamb had come to welcome these beautiful silences. The absence of so much noise - washing machines, dishwashers and dryers churning,  reminder and text beeps from the phone, car horns and the occasional ambulance - only reinforced how noisy modern life was.  But he did often miss the conveniences and ease, like internet ordering.   This morning as they’d arrived to cut hay, Lamb envisioned a tractor, rather than a sickle, plowing through the fields and an adjacent bailer spitting out perfectly formed stacks. 

 The need he once felt to check his phone so often had all but disappeared, though when he and Joe went to sleep each night they did play a few games – having charged the phone during the day with the solar phone charger – read, or listen to music. Shaking himself from his remembering, he wondered what he could do without all the capabilities they once had to make her day special.  He began thinking about things she had said she wanted or liked.

 While in London one January day when Claire was younger, she saw a vase in the window of an antique store. Lamb remembered holding her hand as they walked down the street, and the tug from when she stopped.

 “Uncle Lamb” she said, her face against the glass now that she was under the awning to avoid the falling snow.

 “Yes dear?  Do you see something you like?”

 Lamb had thought she’d seen a doll, or even a pair of earrings.  Their somewhat nomadic existence had never lent to keeping many personal belongings so she was often drawn to such things.

 “That vase.  In the middle there.  The green one. I really wish I could have something…” She paused, then sighed. “Will we ever have a home with a room for me? Where I can keep pretty things?”

 Lamb squeezed her hand. “Yes. We’ll get a home one day.

 She looked up at him, hope in her eyes.  “Can we come back here and get this when we do?”

 “Of course.”

 She looked at it for another minute, then pulled Lamb’s hand.  “We can go now.”

 A wave of sadness overtook him when he realized how long it had been since then; not only had they not gotten a home, but they’d never gone back for the vase.  He’d been considering making a home while they were in Scotland, but life took yet another detour.

 The sound of an approaching horse brought Lamb to the barn door to see who it was.

Dismounting, Jamie took a minute to allow his eyes to adjust as he walked from the direct sun into the dark of the barn. “Is it well with ye? Da sent me to help.  He said they’ve everything under control in the field.”

 “Yes. All’s well.”

 Lamb seemed distracted, so Jamie probed further to ensure everything was, indeed, well.

 “I can finish for ye, if ye’d like to rest.”

 Impressed with Jamie’s perception, Lamb divulged the reason behind his apparent preoccupation: “It’s Claire’s birthday in a few weeks.  I just remembered.”

  “I dinna ken it’s importance in yer time.  Do ye need anything?”

 “We do celebrate it.  Cake, decorations, and such.”

 Jamie’s stomach turned. He felt completely unprepared and didn’t want to let anyone down, especially Claire.

 Seeing Jamie’s distress, Lamb laid his hand on Jamie’s shoulder.  “Don’t worry.  We’ll put something together.”

 “I dinna want her to be disappointed.”

 “I know you don’t. And I appreciate that.”  Lamb scratched at his nearly full beard.  “How are glass items gotten.  Is there a glassmaker anywhere nearby?”

 “Aye.  A fine one.”

 “I’d like to have a vase made for her.  She’s always wanted one.”

 “We can take a ride. It’s no far.  I’ll tell Mam, if that’s alright. I’m sure she’ll make a cake.”

 “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

 “I’ll help to get this finished.  Should be about time for lunch after.”

 The saying “many hands make light work” indeed rang true as they quickly finished spreading the hay and walked toward the house, following the smell of freshly baked peach pie.

 “Would ye want to take a ride this Saturday, then? To the glass maker?” Jamie said, washing off in the tub just outside the back door.

 “Yes, if that’s possible?”

 “Aye. I’ll arrange it.”

 Once inside, Jamie was greeted by Claire’s embrace.  A 21stcentury woman who didn’t consider such displays of affection as inappropriate or reserved for the affianced, the glances of surprise and reproach had not been registering.

 A low hum of happiness emanated from Jamie.  “I wilna hug ye long.  I smell of hay and sweat.”

 Claire took in a long whiff. “And dirt.  I like it.”  She kissed his cheek and lead him to the table.  “Stew is my own recipe.  Come sit down.”

 The other men, smelling the lusciousness of the pot as the lid had been lifted, looked jealously as Jamie was served first.  He smiled smugly at them as Claire plopped a large ladle full into his bowl, then offered him a roll from a basket.  He took two, thanked her, but waited to eat until everyone at the table had been served. The men ate quickly in anticipation of the pie that had made its obvious existence into the nearby field.  Jamie looked curiously at Claire to see if she’d made this as well, but she shook her head and nodded to Emily. 

 Rather than nap, as the other men would do after eating, Jamie laid outside with Claire in a patch of shade under a tree. She nestled into his side. 

 “Do ye have need of anything?  I promised I’d care for ye and fashion what I could to make life comfortable.”

 “You know,” Claire said drowsily, “of all the things that I’d grown used to, and counted on every day, I’ve just realized something.”

 Jamie, just as drowsy, asked: “What’s that?” as he kissed her head.

“Love is so much better.”


	38. Chapter 38

Since Lamb had told him Claire’s birthday was coming up, all Jamie could do was think about what would make it special.

“Oy! Mind yer hands!” Murtagh snapped one afternoon while they were shearing the last of the sheep. “Yer not focused.”

“The other day Lambert told me Claire’s birthday is this month. I’ve been considering what I can do for her.”

“Well, ye need to do the considering when ye don’t have clippers in yer hand, aye?” Murtagh said, having pulled the sheep away to keep it from getting its ear nipped.

“I’m sorry.” Jamie stood, stretched his back out, then shook his head in a small but useless attempt to rid his mind of worry. “I’ll be more focused. But…” Jamie had bent to continue shearing, then stopped and looked directly at Murtagh.

“Son, ye know this ram is hard to shear” Murtagh said, grunting, nearly laying himself on top of the ram “and wilna be kept down easily.”

Jamie pointed the shears towards Murtagh, emphasizing his next thought: “Do ye think it’s too early to propose marriage?”

Murtagh, having expounded all his energy on containing a very rambunctious and willful ram, couldn’t keep him subdued any longer and with one massive jump the ram got out from under his captor and bolted.

Standing, wiping his brow, Murtagh put his hand out, indicating that Jamie should hand over the shears. “Go get Zeus.”

Ashamed, Jamie merely nodded. “Aye.”

An hour later, after enormous cajoling and trickery, Jamie lead Zeus back into the barn by his horns.

“I’m sure I can…” Jamie began, an attempt at conciliation.

“I’ll finish. You keep him down.”

Within minutes the sheep was removed of his wool and allowed to run off again.

Murtagh stood, took the scissors to the bucket to clean, then laid them on the table. He rubbed at his neck then turned around. Jamie’s face, heavy with disappointment, was cast towards the floor.

“I know ye love her son.”

Expecting a stern talking to rather than Murtagh’s kind and sympathetic voice, Jamie looked up surprised.

Murtagh sighed, then looked out into the yard. “I never understood what King Solomon was going on about for eight chapters.” He looked over at Jamie. “But now I have an idea.”

Jamie was leaning against a stall door, his arms crossed over his chest.

Taking the wool to be cleaned in the adjacent area, Murtagh spoke up while laying it in water: “Maybe it’s too soon to be making a decision this serious. Have ye talked to yer Da?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Then ye havena talked to her Uncle either, I assume.”

“No. He said he wanted to get her a vase and asked after a glassmaker. I said I’d take him at the week’s end.”

“Then that might be the time to declare yerself.” Murtagh wiped his hands on his kilt and came to stand back at the table again.

Jamie hadn’t considered taking advantage of their trip in such a manner, but raised his eyebrows at the soundness of Murtagh’s advice.“ ‘tis what I’ll do.”

Murtagh clapped him on the arm. “Do something. Canna have ye mangling the livestock, aye?”

Jamie smiled. “I’ll get it sorted.”

They both saw a shadow, through the slats, coming along the length of the barn. Claire had a basket of scones she’d just made and came to bring Jamie a mid-morning snack.

“I brought…Oh! Hello Murtagh. I’ve been all over the fields looking for you” she said, glancing at Jamie. “But since you’re both here, and I still have plenty to share…Please…”  
She opened the basket to reveal several warm currant scones, jam, and butter.

Murtagh took one and bowed to Claire. “Verra grateful.” He walked outside, asking their pardon for leaving. “I must see to other work.”

Claire, smiling, looked at the floor. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to run him off. Did I interrupt your work?”

“No, my dear. We had just finished and were going on to meet Da.”

They awkwardly hemmed and hawed, the sunlight filtering through the cracks between the barn’s planks. Dust sparkles filled the rays that passed over them.

“Here – let’s sit.” Jamie pulled a tarp that was used under the sheep to gather the wool and laid it on the ground.

Claire opened the basket, made a scone with butter and jam, then handed it to Jamie. Even though he’d just eaten breakfast a few hours ago, he ate as if he hadn’t. Smiling both approval and appreciation, he began to ask how her morning had gone when Claire leaned in:

“You’ve got some…” she said, wiping a bit of jam off his cheek, then kissed him.

“There. It’s all gone.”

He laughed such that his head fell back. “Oh, Claire. I do love ye so.”

Jamie took her chin in his hand, rubbed her cheek with his thumb, then muttered “Ye’ve got a crumb right …here” then kissed her back.

“And I love you” she replied, holding his face in her hands.

“I’d love to spend the whole day with ye, but I need to…” Jamie said, loving the feel of Claire’s gentle hands rubbing his face “…get back to work.”

She gave him one more kiss. “Me too. Takes all hands to feed the army we’ve become. I’ll see you later, alligator.”

“I…uhhh”

Claire's was already past the barn but he could hear her laughing.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apart from his Father and Grandfather, nothing is known of Murtagh’s immediate family; therefore, I used artistic license with regard to his memory.

Friday evening, when Joe and Lamb had gone to bed, Lamb spoke into the air of the chilly storage room they shared: 

 “I’m off with Jamie in the morning. Want to come with?”

 “Nah. Going to rest.”

 “Rest? Have you ‘gone soft’ already?”

 “Ya know, when I was young I used to hate having to wait for my Gramps to get up from his nap in the afternoon after we worked all day.  Couldn’t sit still waiting for him to take us fishing in the evening. Man. I get it now.” He yawned. “Where are you two going?”

 “Claire’s birthday’s coming up.  Jamie’s taking me to a glassmaker.”

 “Nice.”

 There was a long silence.  Lamb had actually drifted off, but Joe spoke up again.

 “Might be a good time to find out what’s on his mind.”

 “That’s the plan.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Upstairs, Jenny turned over in bed.  She had a nightcap on for additional warmth, and had the sheets and blankets pulled up to her nose.  All Claire could see over the candle on the table between them was Jenny’s big, brown eyes.

 “I’m happy yer here.” 

 Claire smiled as she shifted further under her own covers.

 “Thank you. I’m happy to be here too.”

"It's nice having a sister." Jenny looked away, then back to meet Claire's eyes. "I get lonely sometimes, especially when I hear all the gàire coming out of Jamie and Willie's room."

“Talking?”

“Laughter.” Claire could tell Jenny was smiling by how her eyes twinkled. “Good night, Claire.” Jenny looked at her sincerely, then turned over and fell asleep.

 “Sleep well, Jenny.”

Claire laid in bed thinking for so long the candle had nearly burned out.  With the remaining light she quietly pulled out her backpack and found her notebook. Slowly tearing out a piece of paper, she then chose a pencil.  She drew a small caricature of herself, her hands clasped to her cheek and hearts coming out of the top of her head.  In each of the four hearts she wrote the words _I love you Jamie._

She folded it into an origami heart and laid it outside Jamie’s door.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In Brian and Ellen’s room, Ellen had just removed the bed warmer from under the sheets and sat it back near the fireplace. She and Brian scurried to quickly cover themselves before the heat left.  Curled together, Ellen spoke into Brian’s chest.

 “Jamie was sure and confident, confessing his love for Claire to us. I pray God will guide him while confessing the same to Lambert tomorrow.”

 “Aye.  Quite the change from the past few years of struggle.”

 “Jamie asked if I’d make a cake for her.  It’s her birthday soon.”

 “We should have a proper dinner then.”

 Ellen wrapped her arm over Brian then tucked her feet between his legs. “She’s been such a help, and such a quick study. Made scones the other morning, then sat with both Willie and Jenny for the rest of the time on their latin and maths.”

“Lambert and Joe are as capable.  Seem to have an insight on how to get things done quickly and efficiently.  Brilliant minds.”

Ellen’s fingers began tapping on Brian’s back; a sure sign she was thinking. She smiled to herself. 

 “Do ye have something else on yer mind?”

 “It’ll be the first wedding here since our own.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Murtagh rose from saying his prayers and went to the fireplace. Fall and Winter were definitely not his favorite seasons.  He adjusted the few logs that were already burning, allowing them to settle so he could add a few more. The cold crept cruelly into his bones at this time; more so with each passing year.  The warmth the fire provided helped sleep to come – and stay – more easily. 

“To be where it was summer year-round. That’s the life.”

Putting a second pair of stockings on, Murtagh nestled into bed.  He recalled a memory from his childhood as he looked into the fire.  He’d been outside with his Da and brothers adding additional hay to the horse barn one cold November afternoon as a snowstorm lay threatening on the horizon.  They did the same for the sheep, hens, and cows before running back to the house. His mother was leaning over the fire in the kitchen stirring a kettle of mulled apple cider.  He remembers sitting at the table, a plate of fresh bread, butter and jam being passed around, sipping the hot, delicious drink as wind and snow flakes began to batter the window.

“Maybe it’s no so bad…” Murtagh thought as he fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Jamie, on his side, was blissfully submitting to slumber when he heard Willie rustling about.  He gave little mind to it; Willie often fussed before he fell asleep. After several minutes, though, Jamie asked after his brother:

“Are ye well, then?

There was a moment’s silence. “Do spiders sleep at night?” came the concerned reply.

Smiling and shaking his head, Jamie turned over.

“I gather they’d have to sleep sometime.  Night is as good as any.”

 “I’m just no sure, so dinna feel secure closing my eyes.”

 Propping his tired body upon his arm, Jamie looked across the room.

 “What happened to cause ye to be worried about spiders and when they sleep?”

 “Today in the field I saw a few in webs they’d weaved.  I thought that it must’ve taken a fair amount of work to complete the webs.  They were intricate, aye?   So then I wondered if they’d made them at night, or spent the day arranging them. Debating the issue has caused me to wonder if they are here, and prowling about, or asleep.”

 “Would ye like to check?”

 “That would be kind of ye. I know the Good Lord made all living things, but they make me fearful nonetheless.”

 Jamie tried not to laugh as he took hold of the candle holder and lit it from the fireplace.  He caught sight of Willie, his arms around his knees, and motioned with his head to come with him as he searched the room.

 Looking under beds, wardrobes, and dressers, on top of doorframes and in corners, the men found no evidence of any arachnid in residence.

 Willie hugged Jamie. “Thank ye brother.  I didna mean to wake ye.”

 “’tis no bother. Good night.”

 When Willie didn’t let go, Jamie looked at him more closely.  Willie lifted his head up: “Would ye have the same certainty with snakes?”

 “Aye, lad. More so.”

 “Thank ye kindly.” Willie looked appreciatively at Jamie, then got back into bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Emily brushed her hair and applied lanolin to her hands and nails.  Washing both clothes and dishes each day took a great deal of life out of her hands. She placed cotton gloves on them then arranged her hair under the night cap.  She blew out the candle and crept into bed. 

Her room connected to the sitting room so the warmth from its fireplace – stoked before everyone went bed to ensure a relatively chill-free morning – seeped through the walls and under the door.

Having Claire and her family, though more work in some respects, had benefits as well.  She could be free from teaching Jenny and Willy in order to perfect her baking skills. She could also take longer breaks as half of her workload was taken up by Claire.

“They’re intriguing, no doubt” she thought as she adjusted her head on her pillow “but I dinna understand what they’re saying sometimes.”

 She rolled over onto her side.  “Jamie’s taken with Claire.  I expect…” she thought, drifting off "the Laird and Lady will be preparing for their wedding soon.  ‘twill be lovely if they were to have it in the spring, at the chapel.”  She envisioned Claire in a lovely white dress with a flower garland in her hair.  “Maybe I could be the maid of honor” she thought, smiling at the prospect of having a lovely dress too.

 

 

 

 


	40. Chapter 40

Rising, Jamie added logs to the dying fire in the room.  He looked at Willie, his gentle face made serious in sleep, and smiled. He went to his bureau to get the basin of water to warm by the flames while he dressed. 

 He realized he’d not looked at Claire’s letters or portrait since she’d arrived; having her with him had made the need to read them, to touch them, unnecessary. But the one thing he did occasionally caress was the Italian silk and velvet that lay perfectly folded in the drawer.  It had been bought on hope; hope that the happiness and peace that had come so sweetly, so arrested his heart and stilled his mind, had a reason.

 And it did.  She lay asleep across the hall. 

 Jamie washed with the warmed water, then dressed, making himself a bit more presentable for the man whose niece he wished to marry. He opened the door to go prepare breakfast for he and Lamb.  It would be a respectful way to begin the morning.

 Running his hand through his hair he stepped into the hallway. He went to the window at the end and pulled the curtains and sheers back, putting them in the holdbacks, to see what weather would be encountered on their ride.  The window panes, frosted from the frigid temperatures overnight, were patterned with ferns or snowflakes.  When feeding the animals in winter Jamie would look down to the snowflakes that would land on his gloves.  For only a few seconds he saw the beautiful, complex design, rarely seeing two the same, and was astounded how the same patterns were evident on the glass. The day would be clear but cold.  Better than rain or sleet.

 Walking to the stairs he noticed the small folded heart at his door.  Were it not for opening the window at the end, allowing the gentle light of the rising sun past the doorways, he’d not have seen it.

 Pulling it slowly apart he smiled at her ingenuity. He crept back into his room, pulled a pencil from his sporran that lay hanging on a wall hook, and drew onto her sketch.  He fought the urge to ‘enhance’ it as he once did; he knew she’d laugh, but rather he drew himself standing beside her blowing hearts from his hands that said “I love you too.”

 He kissed it and laid it outside her door.

 In the kitchen Emily was just coming in the back door from getting eggs at the henhouse. “BRRRRR.  ‘tis cold this morn!”

 “Aye.  It is.”  Jamie reached to help her put the eggs from her apron into the sink to wash.

 “There’s no so many now that the daylight is diminished” she said, grabbing a cast iron pan.  She cut slices of bread then put them into a toast frame that she sat in the roaring hearth, sat the coffee pot near it, then filled the pan with butter. Lamb came out of his room and into the kitchen shortly after.

 “It’s difficult to stay asleep with the smell of coffee and toast filling your room.”  He smiled to Emily then nodded to Jamie.

 Jamie nodded in return, then pulled out a chair at the table for Lamb, placing a plate of fried eggs and toast in front of him and offering a cup of coffee. He made food for himself and sat opposite Lamb.

 “It isna far, so we could wait until the sun is more risen and the frost is gone”  Jamie said, piling the plateful of food into his mouth. He knew he was nervous, which caused him to be abnormally hungry.

 “That’s a good plan.”  

 One by one other family members made their way into the kitchen for breakfast.  When Claire came, her face aglow with happiness, she wrapped her arms around Jamie’s neck, whispered in his ear, then kissed him on the cheek.  His broad smile and flushed face kept back none of his undeniable love for her.  She slid in beside Lamb, rubbed his back in greeting, and dug in to the plate of food Jamie had immediately made and brought to her.

 Jamie then caught Lamb’s attention and nodded to the back door.

 “Claire, we’ll be back later.  Have a few errands to run.” Lamb took Claire’s hand, then kissed it. 

 “Have fun, ya’ll.” She kissed his cheek then winked at Jamie.

 With the kitchen bustling with food and conversation, the men left to the stables.  The grass, thawed in spaces where the sun had hit it, nevertheless crunched under foot where it had not.  Their breath, coming faster the longer they walked, froze the second it left their body.

 Jamie saddled both horses – he on Donas, and Lamb on the one he rode to Lallybroch and had been using while working in the fields.  Knowing what would be forthcoming, Lamb had put his boxers back on that morning.  “No more riding bare-bottomed” he said to himself when he woke up. “Been There. Done That.”

 Leading them down field in order to access a road south, the scenery would not be as lush as spring and summer; the absence of greenery and foliage, though, would put into beautiful relief the imposing Scottish mountains.

 Several minutes into the ride, which had been mostly quiet, Jamie broke the silence.

 “We’ve about three-quarter’s of an hour.  Glass maker has his shop back in the woods….to fuel the furnace, o’course.”

 “Understandable.”

 “We’ve had him make quite a bit.  Wine glasses, champagne glasses, and such.”

 Jamie looked to his side, gauging both Lamb’s interest and mood. 

 “Sir, I’d like to declare my intentions.”

 “I’d appreciate it. Claire loved you before she met you, and I can see how much more since we’ve arrived.”

 Jamie pulled Donas to a stop, causing Lamb to do the same.

 “I love her just as much.”

 Lamb smiled.  “That is clear.”

 Jamie smiled back, a bit embarrassed. “What I mean is…I wish to marry her.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	41. Chapter 41

Lamb had been considering how he would react to just this situation since they’d all arrived. What would it mean for Claire? Could she accept that she may be spending the rest of her life here?  Would giving birth in this time, without advanced medical care, cause her or the baby any harm?  Countless questions ran through his mind.

 This week Lamb had been thinking of her life before they left: It had been adventurous, interesting, and extraordinary. At least that’s what she led him to believe. While he knew many people her age had envied the way they lived, there were drawbacks that weren’t always apparent:  bouncing from country to country never allowed for making strong friendships or establishing roots, they were never able to make a home, and her education had been piecemeal.  Frank who had manipulated and abused her. Now, she was with a strong, closely-knit family. Ellen had become a mother to her. Jenny looked to her as a sister. Jamie?  He was respectable, dedicated, and deeply in love.

 All in all, despite the lack of modern conveniences and amenities, Claire was in a much better place here and it showed.  She was thriving. So, the moment Joe had recommended that today’s trip be “the talk,” Lamb had decided he would consider a proposal for Claire’s hand barring anything disastrous or unforeseen.

 “Before I give you an answer I need to say something first.” Lamb replied to an anxious Jamie.

 Jamie twisted in his saddle to better face Lamb. “Aye.  Of course.”

 “I must have your promise that you will respect, honor, and care for her.  And you will not IN ANY WAY compromise her chastity. Am I clear?”

 Jamie was prepared with his promise before Lamb had finished: “I swear to ye before God that I will do all ye ask.”

 “Alright, then.  You have my blessing.”

 “Thank you, Sir…thank you.”

 “Lead on, then.” Lamb said, looking down the road.

 The sun was just overhead when they steered onto a path; it would have gone unnoticed - disguised as it was in the forest - had Jamie not already known its whereabouts.  A quarter of a mile down the heavily-treed lane a small homestead could be seen. There was a charming stone house at the forefront, smoke rising from its chimney.  Around it was outbuildings that, by stone paths, were connected one to another and to the main house.

 Jamie dismounted, let out a long breath, and looked around as he stood in the circular stone courtyard.

 “This place brings back fond memories.  Murtagh and I – sometimes Da and I – would stop here.  It wasna always to buy things, mind, though he’s known throughout Scotland for his wares; many times we stopped on our way to or back from a journey.  Kindest man, verra generous…”

 “Buongiorno a te, Jamie!” 

  Turning, Jamie yelled his greeting: “Buona giornata anche a te, Antonio!”

 A tall, stout man with black wavy hair, a handlebar moustache and intense but friendly brown eyes, Antonio came from a building near the house. He embraced Jamie, slapping him on the back. “Stai bene? Come sta la tua famiglia?”

 “Molto bene grazie! E tu?”

 “Fantastico!”

 Antonio turned his attention to Lamb, wiping his hands on his leather apron, charred and marked from constant work.  “Antonio, this is my friend, Lambert Beauchamp.  He and his family are staying with us.  Lambert, this is Antonio Bicchieri.”

 Antonio greeted Lamb just as strongly, clasping his hand. “You are French?  Please forgive that I am not as good at French as I am at Italian, but I probably fare better with that than Gaelic!”

 “Please don’t be troubled” Lamb said, smiling “I’m British.”

 Antonio looked anxiously at Jamie.

 “They’ve come here from their home in the colonies to escape the war” Jamie said in reassurance.

 Antonio eyed Lamb for a moment, nodding his head in thought. “Ahhhh. Then we are brothers!  I left a few years ago when relations with Britain were beginning to strain. The Massacre and Tea Party.   It was obvious where things were headed, no?”

 “Indeed.” Lamb replied, feeling a kinship with this man. 

 “You are traveling?” Antonio said, turning to Jamie.  “Or maybe in need of window panes?

 “We’ve come for a vase today.  For his niece’s birthday.”

 “I am honored. First you will come to eat, Sì?”

 “Sì. Grazie.”  Lamb added, winking.

 Antonio’s booming laugh ushered them into the house.

 The home, outfitted with dark wood furniture, brocade drapes, and framed paintings had as much presence and flair as its owner.  A young man of roughly Jamie’s age came from the back part of the house. He was holding a small child who was eating a chunk of bread. 

 “You remember my son Nino, yes?” Antonio said to Jamie,

 “Aye, I do.  It’s been some time!  And is this…your daughter then?”

 Nino – nearly a copy of his Father but with hazel eyes - laughed and tossled the hair of the little girl he was holding.

 “The little lamb would be mine. Gianna. Born just last year” Antonio said, taking off his apron and placing it on the bannister.

 Ashamed, Jamie apologized.  “I’m truly sorry.  Please forgive me.”

 “’tis no bother, lad!” Antonio said, trying to perfect his brogue. “She was quite the surprise! Nino, this is Lambert Beauchamp, a friend of Jamie’s”

 Nino made room for them to go through to the kitchen: “We’re honored to have you both.  Please – join us. My mother is preparing lunch.”

 “We’d be happy to. Thank you.” Lamb said, walking ahead of Jamie.

 Benedetta stood nearly as tall as her husband. Dark-haired, with an angular face, she was captivating. Putting a basket of bread on the table, she recognized Jamie immediately.  “Jamie!” She seemed to cover the breadth between them in only a few steps. She hugged him as strongly as her husband had, taking him in.  “You look happy!”  She cocked her head to the side.  “Sembri un uomo innamorato”  she said with a smirk.

 “Sì” he said trying to hide the smile that threatened to overtake his face.

 “Oh!  You are to be married!” she said, clasping her hands together.

 “Well, I…”

 Nino reached to shake Jamie’s hand.  “Many congratulations, friend.  When is the wedding to be?”

 “We’ve not settled that yet, I still have to…”

 “Ahh,” Antonio said, “It is clear now!  Benedetta, this is Lambert Beauchamp, a friend of the Frasers.”

 “I am happy to meet you. It is your daughter then?” Benedetta beamed.

 “No, my niece.”

 Nino sat Gianna in a specially made high chair, then arranged the seating to accommodate Lamb and Jamie while Benedetta brought the remaining food to the table.

 “I have yet to ask her” Jamie said, settling into a chair. “I’ve only just received Lambert’s blessing.”

 “You will let me help?” Benedetta pleaded.

 Antonio looked at Jamie, indicating that trying to stop her would be futile.

 “Of course!”

 “So, you are new parents” Lamb said, taking a napkin and laying it on his lap.  “How many children do you have altogether?”

 “We’ve just the four” Benedetta stated as if they’d somehow let everyone down.  "Our other two are temporarily away." 

 Jamie did his best with the meal - garlic-tomato sauce over gnocchi - though heavy seasoning never agreed with him.  Lamb, on the other hand, couldn’t get it down fast enough. He had readily accepted seconds and had torn into the homemade bread and appetizer – mozzarella with sun-dried tomatoes and basil- with abandon.  Placing a section on his plate with the tongs, he instinctively reached for the small pitcher of balsamic vinegar on the table with other condiments, dousing it over the top.

 Antonio, happy at Lamb’s hearty appetite, clapped him on the shoulder. “Now there’s an Italian for you!”

 “It’s always been my favorite food” Lamb said somewhat embarrassed.

 “You’ll take some with you.”  Benedetta said, the finality in her voice not worth challenging.

 “Oh, to have plastic containers…” Lamb thought to himself.


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapters next week!
> 
> In honor of Christmas I've written a few extra smaller chapters that will post Monday through Thursday with a special chapter on Friday.
> 
> The following week (December 28) there will not be an update. I'll resume with a regular schedule on Friday, Jan.4.
> 
> I appreciate all of you that stop by and send my warmest wishes for a blessed Holiday season.

Lunch conversation covered everything from wedding particulars, updates on the war that had made their way over the Atlantic, to children, and food. When little Gianna’s head began to droop and she fought to keep her eyes open, Antonio pulled the sleepy girl from her chair, cradling her to his shoulder.  He whispered “Un momento” to everyone and pointed upstairs. 

 “I’m sure he’ll want to show you what he’s worked on lately, so Nino will take you to the glasshouse” Benedetta whispered, a habit ingrained from all the times her children were napping. “Antonio will meet you after he’s put her to bed.”  She gave a look of insistence but appreciation to Nino, seeing that he wished to save her the trouble of clearing the table.

 Nino got his coat and hat from the hooks in the hall to escort Lamb and Jamie. Once behind the house they crossed a small bridge that went over a stream, then picked back up on the stone path that lead to the large workshop and a smaller building beside it.

 The workshop had seemingly been repurposed from what was once a cowshed. Swinging the large doors open, an impressive and well-outfitted shop was revealed.  An additional set of doors – which were on the opposite side– allowed for much natural light and airflow.  A furnace, two tables with marvers, and an oven were centrally located while the accessories, such as blowpipes, buckets, paddles, and tongs were dispersed throughout.

 “I apprentice with Father here” Nino said, allowing the men time to look around. Through yet another door, Nino lead them through a breezeway into the other building.

 It was here that Lamb and Jamie were captivated.  Open cabinets were filled with pitchers and stemware, while tables held bottles, cups, tumblers and candlesticks. Some items, tied together with a tag, were most likely commissioned pieces. 

 “What an artist…” Jamie said to himself.

 Nino, overhearing him, concurred: “You speak truthfully. My father is an artist.  I can only hope to equal him.”

 “I have no doubt you will” Jamie replied softly, seeing a bit of uncertainty in Nino’s eyes.

 Antonio walked in and began talking to Jamie and Nino while Lamb, browsing, came across several vases laying in a pile on the ground against a wall. Wondering what caused them to be here rather than displayed, he bent down to look more closely. When he picked up a green, teardrop-shaped one from where it was nestled against the others his heart thudded in his chest.

 Antonio had come to his side, noticing Lamb’s choice: “This is one I made some time ago. It didn’t turn out as well as I’d planned, unfortunately. It would not sell so I’ve laid it here. I have others if you care to…”  
  
Jamie saw Lamb’s frozen expression and rigid posture so came quickly to his side: “Are ye alright?  Is something amiss?”

 “Can I speak to you privately?”

 “Of course.”

 Antonio excused himself while Lamb and Jamie walked outside.

 “Are ye unwell?  I find that oregano and garlic often…”

 “Yes.  I mean no. I’m…..I…”

 Jamie looked at Lamb, worried that something had occurred without his notice.

 Lamb ran his hand through his hair, then pulled at his beard, taking a long breath.  Slowly, the color returned to his face.

 “When Claire was young we were visiting London during a cold, snowy November. Everything was decorated for a common holiday - Christmas. In a small shop window Claire saw a vase.  She asked if we could come back to get it if we ever made a home.  I said we would, but I never got back to that shop. And we never really made a home anywhere.”

 For the first time since he began talking Lamb looked up at Jamie.

 “It was this vase.”

 Jamie tapped his fingers against his thigh, his brows furrowed in contemplation.

 “I studied it intently” Lamb went on “to be sure I got the exact one when the time came, especially if it had been moved around the store, or…” Lamb looked around, overwhelmed “showed up somewhere else.”

 Lamb paused, his mind replaying the moment with Claire.

 “I noticed a cluster of bubbles, the graceful teardrop shape, the shade of green.  Jamie – I’m certain it’s this vase.”

 Antonio repeatedly glanced outside, worried that the men might want the vase but be unable to pay for it. “I will not let them feel shame.  I erred in the blowing, causing the bubbles, so…yes!  I will give it to them without charge.” he thought to himself.

 “We must buy it.  Do ye agree?” Jamie said.

 “Absolutely.  How often do you get a chance to make up for past mistakes?”

 After walking back in, Lamb felt a need to explain his abrupt departure.  “I apologize for needing a moment alone.  Men are…sometimes not the best at picking out gifts.  I wanted to confer with Jamie whether my niece would like the vase before I made an offer. Would it be for sale?”

 “You honor me.  I cannot in good conscience charge you for it considering it's defect.  Please – accept it as my gift.”

 “You’re very kind.  I am prepared to pay, of course. I could not inconvenience you.”

 “It is no inconvenience.  Though not all pieces are worthy for sale, I still may not wish to return them to the furnace.  I insist – my gift.” 

 Walking off, Antonio motioned for Nino to get a velvet-lined box. Lamb looked at Jamie, raising his eyebrows. 

 Back at the house Benedetta had wrapped a ceramic crock full of sauce in a towel, knotting it at the top.  In another towel was wrapped a loaf of bread.  She placed them both, and another wrapped item, into a satchel.

 “This should fit in the saddlebag.”  She held it out in front of her, waiting for Lamb to take it.

 Grateful, even gleeful, he took it from her hand.  “Thank you very much.”

 She waved it off.  “Non è un problema. Sono felice che ti piaccia.”

 Lamb turned to meet Jamie in the hallway while Benedetta followed them out.  Antonio and Nino were just bringing their horses from the stable.

 Lamb put the satchel in one saddlebag, then when Antonio handed him the box with the vase he put it into the saddle bag on the other side of the horse. Lamb reached to shake Antonio’s hand. 

 “I appreciate everything.  You’ve been very generous.”

 “It was our pleasure. God’s Blessings to you all.”  He waved to both men as he walked back to the house, one arm around Nino, and the other around Benedetta.

 Down the road Jamie saw a marked change in Lamb’s demeanor and remarked that the day had been very serendipitous.

 “Quite” Lamb replied. 

 It had been more serendipitous than Jamie realized for when Lamb had picked up the vase he saw something surprising lying behind it.

 


	43. Chapter 43

They rode in quiet; Lamb was consumed with the unbelievable turn of events that had just transpired while Jamie thought how to make his proposal worthy enough for a woman so perfect. Eventually, Jamie broke the silence.

“Ye said there was a holiday in yer time that took place about now?”

 Snapping from his thoughts, Lamb looked at Jamie and smiled. 

 “Yes. Christmas.  There is decorating, eating, visiting family and…”  Lamb pursed his lips before saying: “gift giving.”

 Jamie panicked.  “ _MORE GIFTS?”_

“Well, yes.”  Pretending to smooth his moustache and beard, Lamb felt more like he was holding the laughter back.  “But it’s also a time to remember the poor.”

“Oh.”

 Jamie rubbed his temple and sighed.

 “Son, none of us are expecting your family to observe what we observe. If anything, we’d celebrate it between ourselves.  I gather you’ll have the engagement to celebrate with her?”

 “Aye.  That I will.”

Dismounting in the front courtyard, Lamb recommended leaving the vase in the saddlebag until he could get it later to keep in his room. But the food he would definitely be taking in. 

 A lively conversation was taking place around the fire in the family room, and laughter greeted the men as they walked in. Whiskey and warmed cider seemed to be free-flowing. Murtagh rose, slapped each man on the back in greeting, then went outside to stable the horses for the evening.

 Upon seeing Jamie, Claire rose quickly.  She wrapped her arms around him then lifted her head for a kiss.  “I missed you.”

 Kissing her, Jamie whispered: “I missed ye too.”

 “Ahem.” Lamb, pretending to be hurt, wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. 

 “I’m sorry.”  She hugged him, then pulled away in shock.

  _“WHERE WERE YOU?_ _I SMELL GARLIC.”_

She looked over at Joe who had already honed in on the smell. He mouthed “I smell marinara.”

 Lamb tilted his head towards the kitchen. He sat the satchel on the table and carefully removed the contents. He untied the towel from the crock. The next towel he unwrapped was stained in several places but it didn’t take long to know why:  it was a loaf of Italian bread filled with mozzarella, sundried tomatoes, and pesto.  Lamb looked at Claire and Joe, their faces a mixture of shock, anger and hunger. Claire, her hand on her hip, felt betrayed: “SERIOUSLY? ” 

“Don’t be angry.” Lamb said, soothingly.

 The last towel revealed a pile of almond biscotti.

“Before we tear into this like lions on a wildebeest, we should offer to share.”  Lamb held up his finger, pointing it at them: “WAIT.”

 He walked back into the family room.  “Excuse me, we’ve brought back some food from our visit to The Bicchieri’s if you’d like some.”

“We’re full.” Brian said over a puff of his pipe, the nods of those in the room confirming his statement.  “Enjoy.”

 By the time he got back, Joe and Claire had made themselves plates. He threw up his hands.  “I said to wait!”

 Claire tore off a chunk of the sandwich, exclaiming “YOU AREN’T THE BOSS OF ME.”

Joe poured the sauce he’d put into a bowl straight into his mouth and followed it with a huge bite of sandwich.

 “You ARE animals.” He laughed to himself, plating his food.


	44. Chapter 44

A few days later Jamie was still trying to find something to give Claire.  Coming back to the house for lunch after laying up hay, he saw Claire sitting on a blanket with food spread out. Seeing him coming up from the barns, she waved.

“Lunch is served, _Monsieur”_ Claire said as Jamie neared.

_“Merci mademoiselle.”_

She prepared a bowl for him of roast vegetables in broth along with some shortbread she’d made that morning.

 He noticed she wasn’t eating with him but didn’t ask why.  She seemed distracted.  When he broke the shortbread cookie in half, and offered her a part, she waved him off.  “I’m alright. Thank you though.”

 Jamie considered what could be weighing on her and went on a hunch.

 “Tell me about the food in yer time.  What was it like?”

 At this Claire seemed to brighten.

 “You were able to experience authentic cuisine from nearly every country right in your own neighborhood.  Cuban, Spanish, Chinese, and Italian.”  She seemed to tremble a bit at the mention of Italian.

 “The food Lambert brought home the other evening.  Ye enjoyed it?”

 “I did. Very much.”  She looked down at her lap.

 “Would ye excuse me a moment, Claire?” Jamie said, standing up. “I’ll be right back.”

 She looked up at him somewhat sad.  “Yes. Of course.”

 He walked to one of the barns to get a spade, then grabbed 4 sticks from the ground.  Returning to Claire, Jamie measured several paces from the house, eyed where the sun was, then moved a few steps over.  He stuck the 4 sticks to form corners of a large square, about 6x6, then began removing the sod. Once he’d rolled it up and moved it out of the way, he took Claire’s hand and brought her to the plot.

 “My love, I promised ye I’d fashion whatever ye may need.”

 She looked at him curiously, then began to cry once she realized what he’d done.

 “I will amend the soil over the winter with manure. Meanwhile we can create seedlings indoors early next year to plant in the spring. 5 tomato plants, several garlic, thyme, oregano, and basil.” 

 She wiped her eyes then hugged him.  He kissed the top of her head. “My gift to you.”

 


	45. Chapter 45

The evening before Claire’s birthday, Lamb and Joe were talking in their room before they went to sleep. 

 Lamb appreciated what the Frasers were doing: “Ellen, Jenny and Emily have been busying themselves with preparations for dinner tomorrow. I’m so grateful for all they’ve done.”

 “They love her.  I’m sure it wasn’t any effort, ya know?”

 “I do.”

 Even in the dark, Joe knew Lamb had something else on his mind: “What.”

 “What?”

 “ _WHAT.”_

Lamb sighed.  “I didn’t tell you everything from the day Jamie and I went out.”

 “I’m definitely awake now.”

 “Well, first Jamie asked to marry Claire, of course.  I conveyed my expectations and he promised – such a noble lad – before God, even – to do what I asked.   Ok, then  I told you the family was Italian and that he was a glass blower. Beautiful workshop and store.”

 “You did.  The meal was awesome.”

 “And I said I got her a vase.”

 “Yep.”

 “I was browsing through his little “shop” when I noticed a pile of vases on the ground in a corner. Wondered why they were there. Stooped down to look at them and almost keeled over.  When Claire was young we were in London on layover; heavy snow was predicted so we got hotel rooms. It was close to Christmas.  We were out window shopping, enjoying the decorations, getting hot cocoa and such.  We were going down a street when she stopped suddenly, jerking my hand. Her nose was pressed to the window of an antique store.  A vase caught her eye.  She asked if we could come back to get it whenever we finally made a home.  I felt my heart crush to pieces.  I told her we would.  So, obviously, we never settled down and I never took her back to get it.”

 “Please tell me this isn’t going where I think it’s going.”

 “Oh, you’ve no idea. Laying there on the ground in that shop was the vase. Not a replica or something similar. It was the same vase.”

 Lamb waited for Joe to reply for the next few minutes, then asked after him.

 “Just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

 Laughing to himself, Lamb continued: “So I picked the vase up and noticed what I thought were glass shards behind the other vases.  Turns out they were actually marbles.”

 Although Lamb couldn’t see it, Joe ran his hand very slowly down his face. He immediately remembered playing with them at his Grandparent’s house - chinese checkers. He also remembered his Grandmother, a history teacher, tell him about them:

 “Marble scissors. German Invention. Mid 19thcentury. First mass- produced glass marbles, early 20thcentury.”  
  
“There was a shooter, a swirly, a milky, and 2 corkscrews.”

 “Any idea… I mean, do you think…”

 “No idea. None.”

 “’Curiouser and curiouser.’”


	46. Chapter 46

In the morning Lamb made sure he was up early to make everyone breakfast.  For Claire, though, he would take hers to her in bed.

Setting the tray on the floor in the hall, he tapped lightly on the door.  Jenny, up and on her way out, opened it:  “Good Mornin’ to ye.”

 “Good Morning Jenny.  There is more in the kitchen” Lamb said as he hoisted the tray up. 

 “Thank ye” she said, skipping down the stairs.

 Entering the room, Claire propped herself up when she saw Lamb. “Awww! You’re so kind.”

 He sat the tray down on her lap.  “Happy Birthday, Sweetheart.”

 Her smile, more radiant than any he could recall, touched him. As her guardian, he worried constantly over whether she was eating and sleeping enough, her health, her heart. It was such a relief to see that all these parts of her were, if this smile were any indication, sound.  He sat beside her and glanced out the window while she enthusiastically ate. 

“Ellen said I’m not to do anything today.  Think I’ll read or” her voice became quiet “play around on my phone.”

 Lamb smirked.  “Joe and I read at night, and sometimes we play music.  Joe’s taken to writing in a journal before bed too.”

 Claire took Lamb’s hand.  “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”  She pulled herself up to kiss him on the cheek.  “What I’ve become and what I’ve achieved is because of you.”

 After breakfast Claire fell asleep again; a full stomach and a warm bed were too hard to ignore. By early afternoon she woke to the smell of cake and stew.  She stretched, got up from bed, and washed leisurely.  Afterward she hazarded a trip downstairs.

 Ellen was just putting the last of supper on the table, then placed the frosted cake in the center. Emily excused herself to gather everyone.  Jamie pulled out a chair so that Claire could sit beside him. When all were assembled Ellen spoke:

 “Claire, we’re happy to celebrate this day.  Yer a blessing – ye and her family – and we canna imagine life without ye.”

 Ellen hugged Claire and kissed her cheek.

 “Thank you all so much.  I’m proud, and happy, to have been accepted into this beautiful family.

  Jenny then pulled a present up from her lap. “This is from Mam, Emily and I.”

 Nearly tearing up, Claire mouthed “Thank you” to them. Inside was a pair of hand-made gloves. She put them on, remarking at both the fit and the craftsmanship. 

 Lamb reached under the table as well and pulled up the box. He reached down the table to give it to her.

 “Claire, this is given with my utmost love.”

 She undid the beautiful latch and opened the lid. Turning the box vertically, she tilted it towards her.  Gently pulling the vase gently from its velvet bed, Claire ran her fingers over its simple lines then held it to her chest.

 She walked the three chairs over to hug Lamb who had already gotten up and was moving towards her.

 It was more than just a vase. To Claire it meant there was a home; a place of comfort and permanence. To Lamb it was the fulfillment of a promise he’d long agonized for not keeping, but which also came with an exceptional family and a man of integrity, honor, and kindness to love his niece.

 Through her sobs she thanked Lamb.  He pulled her away from him, and through his own tears replied:

 “I’m sorry I took so long.”

 

 

 

 


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gentle reminder: Love Letters will be on hiatus until January 4th.

No amount of fall remained; in its place had come – and come rather dramatically – the stinging, bitter cold of December.  Work on the farm became focused on maintaining the livestock, repairing and storing the equipment, assessing the year’s crops and yield, and planning for spring planting.  Despite this, there would be ample time to finally rest.

 So, with more free time, Jamie kissed Claire one morning after they’d eaten and said he’d be away most of the day. 

 “Alright my love.  I shall be sat near the fire with a blanket doing some embroidery.  I’m rather enjoying it.”  She ensured he was warm enough, checking every body part for proper coverage, then adjusted his cap. He hugged her. “I shall see ye for supper.” 

 As Claire sat, dozing off at the fireplace, she remembered that Christmas was a few weeks away.  She thought of the shops, the decorations, the carolers, and watching re-runs of _A Christmas Story_ and  _White Christmas_ while putting up the tree.

 Later she made some scones and ate a few with a strong cup of tea. She and Jenny played games.  Jenny and Willie read to each other from a book.  The men sharpened axes and chopped wood. About supper time, Claire and Ellen seasoned a roast and peeled potatoes. Emily mixed up bread pudding.

 When the dogs scampered off from their warm beds near the fire, Jamie’s return had been announced.

 He bent down to pat them, then said “hello!” into the house. A chorus of hellos returned, with Claire delivering hers personally.  After warming himself a few minutes from her embrace, his stomach grumbled.

 “Right this way” Claire laughed.

 As Christmas approached, Jamie’s nervousness grew. He couldn’t sleep one evening and got up to get something to eat.  He saw his parents were awake so rapped his knuckle on the door and waited for their reply.

 “Aye?”

 “’tis Jamie.  May I see ye both?”

 “Come in, dear” Ellen’s soft voice replied.

 Jamie recalled the many times he’d done this as a child; sometimes frightened, sometimes worried, sometimes even excited.  This evening was a combination of all.

 Brian was at his desk, candlelight casting a shadow on the ledger he was making notations in. Ellen was reading the bible, also by candlelight.  They both looked toward the door as he entered.

 “Da, Mam, I havena let ye know that Lamb gave me his blessing to marry Claire. I vowed to God before him I’d honor, respect and love her.”

 Brian closed his ledger.  He got up, held out his hand to the chair he was sitting in, then went to sit on the bed beside Ellen, taking her hand.

 Ellen beamed. “Oh, Jamie.  That’s wonderful. We’re happy to hear that.” 

 Brian thought for a moment.  “Will ye be proposing soon?”

 “Aye.  I’d like to do so before Hogmany on a holiday they celebrate - Christmas.”

 “We’ll have ye married in the chapel?”

 “It’s my hope.”

 “This has to be tended to properly. We’ll need to have a discussion.”

 “I understand.”

 “Have ye a wedding ring?”

 “Oh.  Just a moment.

 Jamie walked to his room, pulled open a drawer in his bureau, then picked up the ring and the cloth. Back in his parent’s room he pulled the chair from Brian’s desk to be beside them. He sat the material on Ellen’s lap then opened his hand for them to see the ring.

 “I went to the blacksmith and asked him to create this.”

 A hammered iron band, the center around the ring was hammered copper with small, thin “spinner” bands of silver made to resemble twine and a garland of flowers.  On the underside of the ring had been stamped “CEB/JAMMF.”

 “Mam, would ye be able to sew a bag for Claire?  It’s my present to her.  I bought this while I was away with Murtagh” he said, pulling the materials apart.

 “Aye, m’love” Ellen said, admiring the patterns and colors “I’ll make her a fine one.”

 Brian rose and embraced Jamie.  “Son, we’re happy for ye both. And verra proud.”

 “Thank ye.”  Jamie bent to kiss Ellen, who’s hug was a bit longer than usual.  “I love you, son.”

 Jamie smiled at them both then got up to leave.  Pulling the door closed as he walked out he added “..and..uh..there’s going to be fir tree in the family room good night.”

 In the hallway, Jamie heard rustling in Murtagh’s room.  He tapped on his door.

 “Come in.”

 From habit Jamie knew where the chair was and found it easily despite the minimal light available. 

 “Hello son. Bad dream?”  Murtagh playfully asked.  Nearly every time Jamie had come into Murtagh’s room at night while he was growing up was due to a nightmare.

 “Thankfully, no.  I havena told ye that Lambert gave me his blessing to marry Claire.  I made an oath, though, to love and respect her.”

 “Good.  What do ye have planned next?”

 Jamie reached out for Murtagh’s hand, putting the wedding ring in it.

 “Ah. Ye’ve thought ahead.  Will ye be sending for yer cousin Willie then?”

 “I hadn’t thought of that.  I expected we’d have a small wedding here at home. Just family.”

 “We’ll talk with yer Da, aye?

 “Yes.”

 “ I’m happy for ye, son.”  Murtagh reached out and, giving the ring back, shook Jamie’s hand.

 Christmas eve went about as any other evening in the Fraser home except this evening Jamie would ensure he and Claire would be alone.  When all had gone to bed, Jamie added a few logs to the fire in the living room and pulled Claire to him on the sofa.  After gazing into the flames for a while, Jamie got up.

 “I'll be back in a moment.  Please….stay here?” 

 “Alright.” Claire pulled her shawl around herself and laid her head on the arm of the sofa.

 Several minutes later she heard rustling coming from the kitchen. Chairs were scooted across the floor. 

 “Close yer eyes” Jamie said, peering around the corner.

 “Closed.”

 Claire felt something brush past her.

 He drug a small douglas fir into the corner of the room and hoisted it into a bucket of water.

 “Ye can open yer eyes now.”

 Jamie stood with his hands behind his back, hopefulness and worry in his eyes.

 Claire rose slowly, walking to the tree.  It had a beautiful shimmering glass star topper, and garland made of twine and glass beads.

 “Do ye…like it?  Is it as you would have it in yer time?”

 “Oh Jamie.  It’s more beautiful than any I ever had.”

 Relieved, he let out a sigh. 

 Claire gently touched the garland, causing the tree’s beautiful scent to waft near her nose.  “What a beautiful smell.”

 Jamie took both of her hands.  “Come talk with me?”

 On the floor near the fire he poured out his heart:  “I love ye dearly. Completely.  I could never have envisioned being this happy.  All I have, all I own is yours – my life, my family, my name.  Will ye…I would be honored if you would be my wife.”

 Claire began to speak but feelings of excitement, happiness and surprise fought to queue themselves to get out of her mouth.  Until she determined which to say first she took a deep breath and kissed Jamie, caressing his face.

 “That would make me most happy.”

 

 

 


	48. Chapter 48

Yi Tien Cho locked up his store, turned the open sign to closed, then pulled down the blinds.  It had been another busy day; a dozen or so in a row.  Holidays had brought in many customers. Some came out of curiosity while others were looking for more unique presents than the mass-manufactured products retail stores provided.  Others knew what they were looking for, having browsed at the store previously. Then there were those who needed money and wanted to sell hand-me-downs or items they’d acquired.  A few brought in things they’d actually found; they weren’t in need of money but saw an opportunity for quick cash. Even with all the buying that had been done, sales were surprisingly strong.

 The talking, explaining, researching, bartering, assessing, and greeting had been draining.  He walked the several stairs to the living area above.

 His beloved children, already in their pajamas, were sat in front of the television together under a large blanket watching a movie.

 Mail had been arranged in piles on the black lacquered demilune table by the door.  He looked to his wife, just setting a tureen of soup on the table, to see if any of it needed immediate attention.  Catching his eye, Ming Ru shook her head.

 Yi Tien walked to the sectional sofa where his children were huddled together.  Seeing their father was home, Qianru turned the television off.

 “Father!”

 Each jumped up to hug him.

 “Will you join us after you’ve eaten?”  Chenglei asked.

 “I look forward to it.”

 They re-assembled under the blanket and turned the television back on.

 He walked to Ming Ru.  His embrace, he hoped in some small way, conveyed the appreciation he felt for all she had been doing to help with the store and with their children’s daily lives, both those that were here and to those who were in China still studying.

 After a few minutes he could feel her laughing; he’d moved from a simple hug to nearly slumping over in her arms. 

She pulled him away, kissed him, and took him by the hand to the table.  She pulled out a chair, had him sit, then helped as he pulled the chair towards the table.

 One of the aspects of marriage that he most admired was how, after decades together, they could speak so effectively without saying a word; entire conversations could consist of glances, shrugs and gestures.  Nothing, in his estimation, could ever equal this level of connectedness and intimacy.

 Ming ladled the fragrant, hearty beef noodle soup into a bowl and passed it to her exhausted husband, then did the same for herself. They sat together in amiable silence.

 It had been months since Claire, Lambert and Joe’s disappearance.  Rather than their children finding out on their own, or worse, through the media as he had, Yi Tien Cho and Ming Ru broke the news to them gently.  They were grief-stricken for their lovely friends but prayed for their safety and eventual return.

 Just today it was reported that Joe’s brother had been contacted by investigators and had kindly cared not only for Joe’s estate, but Lamb and Claire’s as well.  The small television near the table, the volume turned down while they ate, flashed the news again in the ticker at the bottom of the screen. “Police: no foul play suspected in disappearance of missing tourists. Brother settles estates.”

 Yi Tien hung his head in respect.

 Ming Ru took his hand: “If…they went back, then you have helped them. You did an honorable thing.  They’re safe for it.  I feel it.”

 “I just hope…well, it would be lovely to see them again.”  He rose and took their bowls to the kitchen, taking Ming Ru’s hand afterward as they went to watch television with their children.

 


	49. Chapter 49

Early christmas morning Claire woke before everyone.  She wrapped herself in a blanket then went downstairs to Lamb and Joe’s room.  The dogs, hearing someone awaken, went to the bottom of the stairs from their mats near the fireplace. Claire patted them each on the head, then walked into the sitting room. With the iron poker she prodded the dying embers, laid some kindling atop them until a small fire took root, then added logs.  Once the fire was going strong she went to Lamb and Joe’s door and tapped quietly. She heard an equally soft “come in.”

 Shuffling into the storage room, she saw Joe propped up in bed writing in his journal. Two small candles burned on the chest between his and Lamb’s beds.  Relieved that it was Claire, he pulled out his glasses from under the sheets.

 “Hey goober.”  Claire said, sitting at the bottom of Lamb’s bed.  Lamb, on his side, was sound asleep.

 “Hey you.”  Joe said, smiling and putting the journal and glasses under his pillow. He took the pen and flung it at Lamb. “Hey. Your niece is here.”

 Claire giggled.  “Mornin’ Sam.”

 Lamb, just barely awake, grumbled: “Mornin’ Ralph.”

 Claire scooted fully onto the bed, putting her back against the wall, and wrapped the blanket completely around herself.

 “What’s up?”  Joe said, fluffing up his pillows.

 “Well, Jamie proposed last night.”

 “Get OUT!  Congrats lady!”

 “And he brought in a decorated tree.”

“Awww.  Wondered why he was asking us about Christmas.”

 Lamb turned over.  “Congratulations, sweetheart.” He propped himself up on his elbow.  “What did you say about a tree?”

 “He brought in what I think is a douglas fir.  Had stringed glass beads as garland and a beautiful glass star topper.  It shone and sparkled by the firelight.”

 Overcome with emotion, Claire began to cry.

 “I’ve never been this happy.  I didn’t know love could feel like this.”

 “The saying 'you’ll know when it’s right' is the best advice for a reason” Lamb said, reaching for Claire’s hand. “I’m very happy for you. We’ll be witness to a genuine 18thcentury wedding!”

 Claire wiped her eyes.  “Oh my gosh. I know. It’ll be beautiful.”

 “It will. Right now, though, I need some tea or something.”

 He rose, assembled his kilt over his shirt, pulled on his boots, then went to the door.  “Would you care to join me, milady?” he said, opening it.

 Claire hobbled off the bed and curtsied. “I would, milord.”

 Throwing the pen he’d kept in his hand at Joe, nailing him square in the chest, Lamb asked: “Would YOU like anything, doofus?”

 “Yea, a plate of eggs and toast, anything hot to drink with cream and sugar, a couple scones, and..”

 “Hardee Har Har.  You’ll get tea.” Lamb said, halfway out the door.

 He and Claire veered into the kitchen but craned their necks to see what most of the family were standing in the living room looking at.

 “Why did ye no chop it into logs?” Jenny said, looking at her father.

 “Jamie brought it in for Christmas.  Claire and her family...” he said, scratching his head, “celebrate it in the colonies I gather.”

 “I think it’s pretty.  The glass baubles reflect the light from the fire.”  Willie said, standing entranced in front of the tree.

 As Claire was about to speak, Jamie jumped down the last few stairs, anxious that he hadn’t arrived first to explain its presence.

 Seeing Claire rubbernecking from the kitchen, he waved his hand for her, and Lamb, to gather with them.  

 “Jamie, maybe we can announce this after I dress.” Claire whispered, sidling up to him.   “I’m in my shift, cocooned in this blanket.”

 “Of course, mo ghràidh. I wasn’t thinking. I’m just sae happy.”

 “Merry Christmas” Claire said, seeing that everyone was looking for _someone_ to give an explanation. Lamb, beside her, concurred: “And a happy new year.”

 “It’s a tradition in my ti…in the colonies” Claire went on, nervously. “We bring in a tree, decorate it with ribbons and ornaments.  It’s a beautiful holiday, full of hope and wonder.”

 “Oh.”  Ellen looked worriedly at Brian.  Any Christmastime celebration had been outlawed by Scottish parliament just a few generations ago. 

 He took her hand as an acknowledgement of her concern, but also to allay her worry.  “’tis quite beautiful.  I recall the trees my Da and I would fell.  The fragrance brings back happy memories.”

 “We’ll be celebrating Hogmanay soon.” Jenny said, trying to lighten the mood.  “It’s nice to have two holidays.  We’re going to bake black bun and shortbread.  Ma – can we visit Mrs. Fitz again?”

 “Aye” Ellen said, the tenseness in her face melting at Brian’s assurance.

 “And what have we here?” Murtagh said, standing at the bottom of the stairs, his eyebrows characteristically raised in astonishment.

 “It’s a Christmas tree” Joe said, coming in from the kitchen. “I believe this celebration may be called _Yule_ here in Scotland. In the states… _I MEAN COLONIES_ … it’s called Christmas.”  Joe moved behind Claire to clap Jamie on the arm.  “Very kind of you to remember, Jamie.  It’s beautiful.”

 A heavy silence ensued.  Jamie and Claire met eyes, their shared look an agreement that making their announcement might actually be a good idea at this point.

 "Everyone” Jamie said, shifting himself to have Claire more fully in his arms, “we’d like yer attention for a moment.”

 His family turned almost in unison to face him.

  “First, I’d like to wish the merriest” – he looked down at Claire to ensure his terminology was correct. When she nodded he continued “of Christmases to Lambert, Joe and Claire.  And…I proposed to Claire last evening and she accepted.”

 Smiles slowly grew on each of their faces.  Emily, just arriving, saw the hugging and handshaking: “What did I miss?”

Ellen walked to her and brought her into the room. “Jamie and Claire are engaged.”

Her eyes widened. “A wedding! I can’t wait!”

 

 

 

 

 

 


	50. Chapter 50

A late night trip to Mrs. Fitz’s home on New Year’s Eve was, for the time-traveling trio, a highlight of their time in 18thcentury Scotland.

 The hour-long journey late in the evening proved to be a testament not only to their host’s navigational abilities, but their physical endurance as well; no one complained about the cold nor did they lose direction. With a large blanket wrapped twice around them, Claire hugged Jamie atop Blueskin to not only stay upright but to stay warm as well.

 “How are you a blazing furnace in the dead of night in December?  You’re not real.”

 “Aye, I am my love” Jamie said taking Claire’s gloved hand to his lips.  “Dinna need covers much when I sleep either.”

 “Mmmmmmm” Claire said, snuggling as close to him as she could. He smelled of winter air, myrrh, and wool.  “I love you” she whispered into his back.

 Arriving at Mrs. Fitz’s house, behind the tavern, torches burned at the entrance making light for guests while candles filled the front rooms.  Tradition dictated that a handsome, dark-haired man should be the first one of the new year to cross a home’s threshold or, as the Scottish termed it, “first footing.”  This gesture was to bless the home with luck and prosperity for the coming year. Consequently, Brian was always in request.  As the family dismounted, Ellen piled the gifts that they’d brought – whiskey, black bun, and shortbread – into Brian’s arms.

 Mrs. Fitz had been expecting them; this yearly custom of having the Frasers was looked forward to.  She quickly opened her doors allowing Brian to step in and kissed his cheek before taking the gifts.  The others, quite cold, followed quickly behind. Her son, having dutifully greeted each guest, then took the horses to the barn for warmth and food.

 A large fire was roaring and a table in the dining room, where another fireplace was ablaze, was covered with food and drink.  Shortly after, a small group of men who frequent the tavern  -  one who played bagpipe and two who played fiddle – came in and began practicing. Once they began, the eating, dancing, and laughter went on for hours. The news of Jamie and Claire’s engagement brought even greater joy, bringing Glenna to burst into tears and hug them both. 

 Joe was intrigued by the occasion so, sitting out the third round of dancing, he caught his breath and watched in awe.

 Most of his students, as evidenced from in-class discussions, viewed any time more than a century in the past with head-shaking ignorance; the views generally were that people were illiterate, nearly toothless, dressed in rags and sick. Or at war. He wasn’t sure what to attribute this to, for surely there were enough cable shows, documentaries, or movies that countered these notions. But, then again, if it wasn’t in a video game or in an app, the students were most likely not to know. Still, the beliefs had held firm and rarely changed with each year he had been teaching. ~~~~

Experiencing life here first-hand, a singular trait that had made it to the forefront of his observations was loyalty.  Nearly equal to it were custom and pride.  He saw a strong, healthy family dynamic in the Frasers and to a lesser extent in the other people he’d met, noting that all relied on common sense, hard work, and faith.  He had repeatedly taught about the importance of these aspects within Scottish society and its folklore, but seeing them so fully displayed had truly reinforced the tales and literature.

 Towards morning the Frasers said their goodbyes and made their way home.  Exhausted, most went immediately to bed.  Jamie and Claire sat by the fire and fell asleep, wrapped in the same blanket that had enveloped them on their ride. 

 The jovial attitude carried into the afternoon when everyone arose from their naps.  A second set of black bun and shortbread had been made, a lamb roast was seasoned and herbed for roasting, bread was in pans baking, and mulled cider could be smelled throughout the house.

 Brian, at his desk in the bedroom, was bent over his accounting ledger doing some work before dinner.

 “Are ye going to work on New Year’s day, then, Mr. Fraser?” Ellen said, coming to rub Brian’s shoulders.

 “Just for a wee bit, my love.  I’m still doing a final accounting for the previous year.”

 “And?” Ellen said, leaning against the desk.

 “With three additional members to the family, rather than it being a burden, we increased our productivity and thus our profits. But…” Brian said, touching Ellen’s hand, “that is mostly inconsequential when compared to the increase in love and happiness.  They’re definitely a blessing.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	51. Chapter 51

Brian had eaten breakfast hurriedly; a feeling of unease had been gripping him. January weather passed by uneventfully but the onset of February would stand to be different. His storm glass, sitting purposefully in the kitchen window, was portending snow. When combined with how the sheep had grouped together on his last check (“when sheep gather in a huddle, tomorrow we’ll have a puddle”), and the overcast, gray skies, Brain deduced something was coming. He took Lambert, Joe, and Jamie  to gather animals indoors.

 While the rest of the family were relaxing, Claire slipped upstairs to her room.  She had little time to herself over summer and fall, but winter allowed more. Sometimes she wanted to remember what she came from and who she had been. She rarely took out her backpack, though she did take some acetaminophen for a headache, got lip balm once, and repeatedly snuck to charge her phone; otherwise she kept it well-hidden under her bed.

It all seemed so peculiar now - the gadgets, machinery, and tools. 

 First she looked through her pictures. Then she got her earbuds out, plugged them into her phone, and listened to Mozart and an audiobook of Keats’ letters to Fanny Brawne which she thought of while re-reading Jamie’s letters to her. (Keats would not be born until 1795 but Mozart was already 20.) 

 While deeply engrossed, with her eyes closed, she sensed someone standing near her and opened her eyes.  She shrieked, pulled her earbuds out of her ears, and kicked her backpack under the bed.

 “I didna mean to startle ye” Jamie said, his eyebrows wrinkled in confusion, his hands gripped to his chest in alarm. “I knocked but ye didna answer.”

 “Oh…I…ummm” Claire stammered, unsure what to say.

 Seeing Claire’s distress, Jamie backed towards the door. “I’ll leave ye in peace.  I apologize for the disruption.”

 “No, Jamie.  It’s alright.  I was….” she felt for the earbuds under her leg. 

 “Claire, I’m sorry.  Ye were…using things of yer time?”

 She smiled.  His demeanor was so curious, but he clearly felt awful for startling her. She patted the bed. “Come here.” 

Realizing she was going to share what she tried to hide, Jamie pushed the door nearly closed; to close it fully may upset his parents. Being alone in a woman’s room, despite their being engaged, would be unseemly.

She plugged the earbuds back into her phone, chose a song, then put one in her ear and offered the other to Jamie.  He looked at it, then mimicked what she did though she had him put it in the other ear.

 Hearing the music caused a comical range of emotions to play out on his face.

 “Are there…minstrels in the… box there?” he asked, surprised and a bit fearful.

 “No,” Claire said, sweetly touching his face.  “The music was _performed_ by a large group of minstrels, what you probably know as an orchestra _,_ but captured and stored in this so you can listen to it whenever you want.”

 He nodded his head, engrossed in one of Mozart’s sonatas. “’tis quite beautiful.”

 “The composer will be one of the most famous ever.”

 He handed the earbud back.  She wrapped them up and pulled the backpack out from under her bed. She unzipped a compartment and put them and her phone away.  Jamie noticed his kilt pin. 

 “If you need it…I mean, I hope my having it didn’t cause any problem.” Claire said.

 “No, dear.  It’s yours. ‘twas a token of my love.”

 “Thank you, by the way."

 Sticking out of the top was the arrow tip.  She unzipped the main compartment and pulled it out, balancing it on both of her palms.

 "I didn't expect I'd see it again! Murtagh was upset we’d lost it.  It was one of his better ones.”

 “Then you may have it back. Were you shooting letters at the stone?  Is that how it came through?”

 “Not really. Actually…”  Jamie began laughing so hard he bent over. When he had managed to stop, he took the arrow from her hands and sat it beside him. “We were having a shooting contest early on.  It just went through accidentally with the sketch.”

A soft _plink plink plink_ on the window brought both Jamie and Claire to look outside.

 “Da said it will be a strong one” he said, putting his arm around her.

 She leaned into him, and he embraced her as they watched the snow whip about outside. The adjacent forest reminded her of sitting in the park.

 “I have an idea” Claire said, turning her head up to his face.

“And what would that be my love?”

Claire leaned down and pulled out her notebook. She tore out a sheet of paper and rummaged for a pencil.

 “Let’s sketch together.”

 The smile that spread on Jamie’s face nearly lit up the room.

 “We’ll take turns like we did before.  I’ll start.”

 Claire captured the forest that lay directly across from the front of the house.  Most trees were bare, but a few evergreens were dotted within.  Snow was beginning to accumulate on the branches, and even a few birds were flying about.

 She handed what she’d done to Jamie.  He added more branches, put twigs in the birds mouths, and added a layer of snow onto the wall that enclosed the front courtyard.

 He mischievously looked at Claire, signed _JAMMF_ at the bottom, then handed it back.

 Claire smiled, took the pencil back, and signed _CEBF_ below his, then propped it up on the candlestick on her table.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	52. Chapter 52

As a means to keep his word, Jamie converted a small dilapidated shed into a greenhouse for Claire. He reinforced the walls and roof then framed out a small addition to be made of glass panels.  Within the shed he added a table and shelves and found pots for the seeds which were separated into small cloth bags that he tied off with twine and a small tag indicating the contents.

 Claire spent many afternoons there tending to her herbs. The thought of making her own marinara, or even herbed bread, gave her joy. She found she had a knack for gardening; more so than with darning though she was getting better.  ~~~~

With spring approaching, renewed work on the fields began; plowing, spreading manure, and tending to pregnant livestock.  Brushing down the horses one afternoon, Murtagh looked over at his Godson mucking the manure out of Donas’ stable into a wheelbarrow. “Son, let’s take poles down to the river and get some fish?  Water is moving again. I’m a wee bit tired of roast for dinner.”

Jamie wiped his face on his sleeve then looked over at his Godfather.  Even after all these years, through his childhood when he pushed limits,  being a stroppy teenager, and now with a new family and fiancée, Murtagh’s presence was still a comfort.

 “A good kedgeree would be tasty.” 

 Murtagh smiled, relieved that Jamie had not yet outgrown a trip with his ol’ Godfather.

 In the evening Jamie found Murtagh in his room tying flies.  As far back as he could remember Murtagh had tied them. He had yards of line – not modern-day nylon but waxed linen with horse hair – and bird pelts. His trusted cane poles were stacked in the corner along with a net.

 Murtagh didn’t turn from the intricate handiwork, knowing by sound who had come in.

 “Son?”

 Jamie sat the arrow on the desk in front of Murtagh. “Claire gave this to me the other day. I thought you’d appreciate having it back.” 

“Ha!  She kept it, aye?”  Murtagh took it, looking it over for potential reuse. “Thank ye.”

 “See you in the morning?”

 “I’ll make breakfast.”

 Claire came through the kitchen early, hoping to get a bite of whatever she smelled wafting up the stairs.  Seeing the fishing poles lined up against the table, she quickly surmised the day’s activities.  “Well, ya’ll have a good day!” She kissed Jamie on the cheek then whispered: “I really would like some fish for a change.  Bring back a basketful?”

 “Will do, lass.”  Murtagh said, snickering.

 At the creek, the men were surprised at how many trout were there. “Spring creeks are always the best source.  They eat year round” Murtagh said, casting his line towards a pool on the other side.  Standing on the creek bank, it’s gentle gurgling and lapping were sounds that made him feel alive.  He wasn’t one to sit indoors.

 Jamie watched in awe.  Murtagh’s cast was beautiful and fluid.  The way he landed the fly was nothing short of perfect. Remembering their contest for rabbits, Jamie – no amateur himself with a rod – wanted to catch the most. He couldn’t go home to Claire being outdone, but he just couldn’t get a rhythm.

Having fished with Jamie all his life, Murtagh knew he was taken with thought. He was all over the place.

 “What’s on yer mind, son?”

 “I’ve been thinking of my wedding night” Jamie said, frustrated at catching his line in a tree “and whether I’ll…please her.  I can give her a home, and food fine enough, but that isna all there is to marriage.”

 Murtagh nodded, considering the meaning behind Jamie’s statement.

 “Things could no have changed that much in a few hundred years, could they?”  Murtagh hazarded a smile as he yanked out the first trout.

 “I’d gather the act is still the same, o’course, but maybe…practices have changed,” Jamie said, throwing his newly-free line near where Murtagh was casting. “Can ye imagine how much more advanced everything is? Women go to university and become _engineers._   Men have advanced learning to become scientists and travel around the world learning and teaching about ancient civilizations.  I dinna know what they even travel in! What if…what if I’m too backward?  Too primitive? I canna have this conversation with Da, him not knowing about Claire. And it’s been eating at me.”

 Murtagh unhooked the fish, placed it in his creel box, then stepped towards Jamie. His voice was low and comforting.

 “Son, I havena been married so dinna have direct experience with women.  But what I do have, by virtue of being single, is first-hand observation.  I hear words, but I also see actions, if ye ken. This has taught me to consider what people do over what they tell me. Now, with  yer Mam and Da.  What they say matches up with how they act.  I dinna doubt for a moment that they love each other.  And I know ye learned from their example.”

 Jamie lifted his head; a sign that his heart was lifted too.

“I see everything Claire does, and everything you do. She’s alight when you’re near her. Glowing.  Ye’ve obviously kindled something in her.  And yer…caring about pleasing her shows yer heart.”

 Murtagh stood his pole to his side.

 “Tell me how this could make any problems.  Have ye thought _why_ she loves ye so, considering she must have had her pick from all those educated, traveled men – her being an educated woman?”

 Jamie’s eyebrows wrinkled, and he thought for an answer.  Murtagh offered it. 

 “Because _they_ werena pleasing to her.  A fancy degree and…flying machines obviously didna make them attractive. What you have, as primitive as ye think it may be, won her over and brought the lass _through time!_   Son, I’d say ye please her just fine.”

 Jamie’s smile slowly grew; the relief had bubbled up from his spirit to his face.

 “I appreciate that, Father. Truly.”

 And with that, Jamie pulled out the first of several fish.

 Tracking through the field to home, Jamie spoke up: “Ye still bested me, but only by one.” 

 “But I still won, mind.  Age and experience will always outdo youth and vigor!”

 Claire was already in the kitchen as Jamie came in the back door.  He patted the creel box he held, indicating a healthy catch, and sat his pole against the wall.  She wound her arms tightly around his waist and lifted her head.  He dropped the box and drew his hand slowly into her hair, tilting her head to the side, and kissed her.  When she finally opened her eyes he swore he saw flames.

 

 

 


	53. Chapter 53

Jamie and Claire took a walk late one evening.  Rain had been regular; perfect for thawing the ground for planting, but not the best for a stroll around the grounds. Despite this, it was wonderful being alone. Claire needed only her shawl, the gloves she got for her birthday, and Jamie’s arm to stay warm.  Looking at the sky she thought to herself that 2ndshift was about to clock out: the sun was setting into an orange-red horizon, and 3rdshift would shortly be on: the stars that were beginning to dot the clear blue/black sky.

 “Entre chien et loup,” Jamie said, noticing where her attention was.

 Claire contemplated the phrase.

 “The time is called wolf light,” he clarified.  “Ye canna see the difference between a dog and a wolf. It’s when everything that’s familiar becomes wild and sinister.”

 Jamie purposely skipped his step so he was in synch with Claire’s.  “Have ye a date ye’d care to be married on? We should probably get that decided, but I dinna mean to pressure ye. I’m happy waiting if that’s what ye wish.”

 Claire swung their clasped hands back and forth.

 “I’d prefer to set a date, yes, but I also don’t want to rush.  It will be my first, and only, marriage so I’d like it to be special and well thought out.”

 Jamie stopped and pulled Claire towards him. Hearing her say what he’d thought, the moment he thought it, stilled his heart.

 He gently pushed aside a curl, then held her face in both of his hands.  Despite the fading light he could perfectly see her exquisite features thanks to her luminous, ivory skin.

 “You’re hands are so warm, I..”

 Jamie stopped her mid-sentence to kiss her.

 “Where did that come from?”  she said, a tremble in her voice.

 “My heart.”

 She nuzzled his nose, then took his hand so they could continue walking.

 “Why don’t we marry on the date we met? July 13th was when my sketch came through and you… _added_ to it.”  She cast him a definite sideye.

 “Ye mean _perfected_ , I believe.”  He moved quickly enough to escape the punch to his arm.  As she playfully went for another, Jamie turned and ran back to the house. “YE’LL GET BETTER IN TIME, MISTRESS!  I’D BE HAPPY TO TEACH YE!”  he yelled, already several yards ahead of her.

 “I’M GOING TO TEACH **YOU** A FEW THINGS JAMES FRASER!” Claire shouted, gaining ground.  She had the advantage in speed, being several stone lighter, but with Jamie’s weight came stamina and soon Claire was winded.  She took off her heavy, uncushioned, wood-soled shoes in order to gain ground.  “Oh, to have my trainers,” Claire panted.

 She recalled the thrill of riding her bike that day, feet off the pedals, whizzing down the hill.  Now, she wished her shawl would fill up like a hot air balloon and carry her the rest of the way.  

 Jamie got to the house only moments before Claire.  He burst in the front door, startling Jenny and Willie who were on the floor playing a game. He ran past them, screaming “I’M A DEAD MAN!” and towards the back door.  He pleaded to Brian and Ellen standing in the kitchen: “DON’T TELL HER I’M OUT HERE!” and ran outside.

 Claire came in breathless, her hair a jumble of curls, her eyes fierce, and dropped her shoes.

  _“WHERE DID HE GO.”_

Both Jenny and Willie, fearful of a wild-maned Claire, gave him up immediately. They pointed to the kitchen.

 Once Claire got there, Brian and Ellen, suppressing a laugh, nodded their heads towards the back door.  “He’s most likely done it to himself,” they both thought.

 She nodded her appreciation, then slowly opened the back door.    She took one step out.

 “JAMES FRASER. I WILL MAKE YOU EAT THOSE WORDS,” she half whispered, half spat out.

 Jamie, hiding at the corner of the house, waited for the right moment to pounce.

When she was about 5 paces out, looking around, he jumped at her.

 “I wilna do any such thing!” he said, grabbing her arms and holding them behind his back so she couldn’t take another swing.

 She yelped, then laughed, pulling her arms back:  “Sleep with one eye open, Fraser.”

 He covered her face with kisses, then placed one in each hand.

 “Oh, Claire. I didna ever think I could laugh with a woman so.”

 They came back in the house and stood rather awkwardly before everyone who, hearing the ruckus, had gathered.

 They took in the messy couple: Claire’s feet were covered in mud, as was the entire bottom of her dress.  Jamie’s boots, knees and kilt were nearly indistinguishable.  Claire’s hair had blossomed in the humid air, creating a massive bouffant that included a stray twig and leaf. Marie Antoinette, currently at Versailles, would probably commend her attempt.

 Lamb came out of his room.  “What’s the hubbub, bub?” Joe followed behind.

 “After a…lively discussion…we’ve settled on a wedding date,” the disheveled, muck-covered couple said.

 “Oooh! When will it be?” Emily said, popping around the corner, then gasping at the sight.

 “July 13” they happily announced, oblivious to their state.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Belated Valentine's Day Chapter.

After the excitement died down from the announcement of the wedding date, everyone went to bed. Murtagh, in the hall upstairs, pulled Jamie aside: “She already agreed to wed ye. She wouldna need to chase ye down.”

Jamie winked. “Unless I wanted her to, aye?”

Murtagh laughed and clapped Jamie on the shoulder. “Good night, son.”

Jamie closed the door to his room, leaning his forehead on the back of it. Claire was not like any woman he’d ever met; she was funny, beautiful, intelligent, and so refreshingly open. He was so grateful to have her. The sudden realization that his life could have ended up with a woman so trite, so predictable…the thought seized him with pain. “But it didn’t” he said to console himself of this errant, frightening thought.

He dropped the mud-caked clothes and boots in a heap on the floor, keeping on his shirt which was the only piece clean. Putting on another pair of stockings, he got into bed. Willie came in shortly after, gave Jamie a look of confusion, then went to sleep. Jamie shook his head, laughing to himself; “I can only imagine what the lad thinks about relationships.”

Jamie recalled a time when he was about 12 that his Da discussed relationships with him. Brian told him about Saint Valentine. “He was a Roman Priest who lived over a thousand years ago. In that time, he was martyred for performing marriages against the Emperor’s decree. Ye see, the Emperor wanted the young men single so they would be more focused fighters. But the church, of course, supported marriage so Valentine performed them in secret.” Jamie looked at his Da with sadness. “Son, marriage is sacred, beautiful, and worthy of being defended. Not just in the beginning, when things are new and exciting, but for the entire life of it.”

Jamie laid there contemplating his Da’s advice. He loved Claire, but he hadn’t considered how he’d protect her and their marriage should something threaten it. “What will I do if it does?” He then thought of Broch Tuarach. Brochs were tall, cylindrical structures all over Scotland. They were rarely used now, and certainly not for what they were intended: a place of refuge from the Viking and Roman invasions of Britain. He’d always fantasized about the people, possibly his ancestors, who had built it. Remembering what his Da had told him, and how the Broch was a place built for safety, Jamie conceived of a plan.

He took a few days for preparation. First, he cleared a way to the Broch then got inside; the old, heavy door – which took enormous coaxing - must have been a somewhat newer addition. The immense stone structure was roughly 40 feet tall and 14 feet thick. He patted it as he entered. “A fortress indeed.”

At varying points there were long divided recesses, used as cupboards, built into the walls on each floor. With only one door, the interior remained dark apart from the light sneaking in through the thatch-less beamed roof. He cleaned up the inside then set up a place in the middle for kindling as it would have been done back then. He didn’t want to hazard using the staircases to the upper floors, so decided to stay on the ground.

Then, a few days later, he got up early in the morning to catch fish. He carried them to the Broch and hung them over a fire. He got back to the house before Claire woke and left a note outside her door:

“My darling Claire,  
My angel from heaven,  
Meet me out front  
At half past seven”

When Claire shuffled out of her room she bent down to see what was on the floor. The beautiful paper was a giveaway. After reading it, and realizing she might be late, she dressed quickly then darted out the front door. 

Jamie, standing beside Blueskin, held his hand out for Claire. She couldn’t figure out what he was doing, but went to him with absolute confidence.

He helped her into the saddle, putting her in front, then hoisted himself behind her and goaded the horse. Riding up the path to the Broch, she saw smoke coming out the top. It reminded her somewhat of a lighthouse.

“Is that a Broch?” Claire asked with so much surprise Jamie laughed.

“Aye. Broch Tuarach. Means north-facing tower.”

“Erm, hate to be a stickler but a cylinder doesn’t have a face to…face any direction.”

“Yer a smart one” he said, kissing the back of her head. “The door faces north.”

Claire gave him a thumbs up.

Jamie dismounted first so he could help Claire down. He tied Blueskin to a tree. Grateful to have the budding grass to nibble, he didn’t give another glance to either of them.

Claire, her shawl around her, took in the impressive, intact, tower.

“These are dotted all over Scotland. Many, if not all, didn’t survive to the future in such perfect condition. This is rare, Jamie,” she said looking up to the top, “and beautiful.”

“Thank ye” he said quickly, wanting to get to the surprise.

Claire went in first, gob-smacked at being inside. Jamie kept the door open for additional light.

The fish were cooked, and on a stone near the fire was a loaf of bread, some butter, and preserves. There was a large blanket for them both to sit on.

“They were built for protection,” he began, untying a fish and making a plate for Claire, “over thousands of years by the people who fled here during England’s invasions.” He realized what he’d said. “…as ye must already know.”

Her eyes darted from one area to another. She hadn’t been away from the house since they arrived, so only experienced family dynamics in 18th century. Now, though, she was sat in what was a remarkable, important architectural legacy of Scotland.

He took her hands; more for the contact, but also to gain her attention.

“Claire I want ye to know that I’m no so naïve to believe that life will always be easy and free of trouble. I pray it will be for us, though.” 

Claire looked warmly but seriously at him, concerned that something had frightened him.

He looked around them. “I want this Broch to represent my willingness to find - to build - protection for us and our marriage, and for ye to know I will always keep ye safe.”

At this tender moment Jamie’s stomach growled.

Claire shook with laughter, and Jamie cursed his unwieldy appetite.

“I’m sorry, Claire.”

She buttered a chunk of warmed bread, spread preserves on it, then held it near his mouth. “Eat.”

He gratefully took a bite, then moved her hand towards her own mouth. “Now you.”

In silence they finished eating; the fish was a fresh and delectable change to breakfast. Claire caught Jamie’s eye: “I can’t find words to say how much all of this means to me.” She wiped away a tear. “Please know you have my undying love, and promise, to fiercely protect this blessed union of ours too.”

Beside the fire they laid down together. A warm, gentle breeze, hinting at spring’s imminent arrival, caressed them both as it wafted through the door.


	55. Chapter 55

Joe and Lamb, uncomfortable with Emily or even Claire cleaning their clothes, were leaving the river laden with the stockings, shirts, underclothes, and trousers they’d just washed; they’d rather this way than waiting for a tub of water to boil.  Now that spring was here, and they weren’t watching their breath freeze as it left their body, they were gratefully taking in the warmer, humid air.  It reminded Joe of a line from Dickens’ Great Expectations: “It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.”

 “It was back-breaking, but I swear scrubbing them with soap on a rock did a better job than machines” Joe said, realizing how preposterous the statement was. They traveled a well-worn path, used for both fishing and washing, back to the house.

 “That’s just because you’d prefer living like a pioneer,” Lamb said, somewhat happy for the exertion after so much time inside.  “I, on the other hand, would like nothing more than to have shoved all of this in the washer, then the dryer, waiting for the little chime to tell me when it’s done.”

 “Yer soft, bràthair caran.”

 “Soft, maybe, but more handsome.” 

 Joe’s laugh filled the air.

 Lamb looked down at his kilt. Here he was, an adopted Scot, a full beard, traipsing back to the 18thcentury estate he’d now been at for several months.  His best buddy, also in full beard and kilt, was ruminating with him about 21stcentury conveniences.  An entirely unusual situation.

 “Where’s Claire?  She wasn’t at breakfast.”

 “Jamie asked if it would be alright to take her away for the morning,” Lamb said, realizing how out of shape he’d become over winter.  The house was coming into view.

 “Well, it’s after noon.”

 “Jamie probably made them something to eat and she fell asleep.”

 ~~~~~

 Claire sat up, pulling her left arm to her side.  “My arm’s asleep.  CRIMINY this hurts.”  Her hair, flattened from sleeping on the blanket, sat in contrast to the pouf of curls on the other side of her head. “How long have I been out?”

 Jamie, who’d been awake and winding the curls around his finger, answered. “About 2 hours.”

 She started wiggling her left arm with her right.

 “Ye said yer arm was..asleep?  A term the advanced healers of yer time use, aye?" he said, trying to be light.

 "NO, it's called  _paresthesia_ but who want's to say that all the time" she moaned.

 After a couple minutes of wiggling, her arm finally stopped tingling.  She turned slightly to see a bemused Jamie. 

 “What were you doing all this time?”  
  
“Wondering how a lass so fair could snore so loud.”

 Claire tried not to smile.

 “And I played with yer hair.”

 “Yea?”

 “It weren’t just the top of ye that made noise, ken, but your bottom as well.  I needed a distraction.”

 “ _Yer_ still on thin ice Fraser.”  She poked him in the chest.

 Jamie smiled at his disheveled, contrary maiden. 

 “We should be getting back.” He yawned, rubbing her back. “ I’ll be at work most days during the week again.  It’s harder work, I think, getting the farm running in the spring so we won’t have time alone like this for a while.  Da gave me the day, so I should be returning.”

 Claire leaned back into Jamie who put his arm around her waist.  The fire had died down considerably, and birds were coming in to reclaim the many safe, isolated areas in the broch for nests. Blueskin rustled outside.

 “And I’m missed in the house too, I’m sure.”  She put her arm behind him and leaned in near his face.  She gently brushed her cheek against his, then along his chin, then over his other cheek, finally landing on his lips.

 “I wish we could have this day, every day, forever,” she whispered, tenderly kissing him.

 “Aye, lass. t’would be heaven.”

 ~~~~~

 Work did, indeed, pick up; both in regard to farming, and in planning the wedding. But another event was also forthcoming.

 “Jamie’s birthday is the first of May” Jenny said, after she and Claire got to their room one night. “I thought ye may want to know.”

 “Does he usually like to celebrate?” Claire asked, thinking to herself that she had roughly 2 months to prepare.

 “He says no - ye know how men are - but I think he likes havin’ a fuss made.”

 “I do appreciate knowing.  I want to make it special for him.”

 “I know ye do.  That’s why I mentioned it.” They used their candle to light a second one.  

 “I really should clean up.” Claire washed, brushed and tied up her hair, then laid her stockings, petticoats and such over a chair.  Once in her shift, she brushed her teeth then got into bed.

 “Would ye be needin’ help then with wedding details?” Jenny said, her big brown eyes peering out from her gentle, sweet face.

 “I can’t see doing this all on my own!  I’ll be obliged to you, your Mother, and Emily.”

 Jenny’s eyes dropped.

 “But as my sister, I’ll guess you’ll be the one I rely on most.”

 Jenny’s eyes returned to meet Claire’s, but with a broad smile.  “Thank ye.”

 

 

 

 

 


	56. Chapter 56

Ellen looked out the window while she cleaned up the breakfast dishes.  She saw Brian maneuvering the horse-drawn hoe throughout the fields in preparation for sowing seeds.  As she wiped the plates dry, she recalled how they’d gotten that, and a seed drill, from a widow several miles away.  When the woman’s husband died, she had an estate sale. She and her husband had acquired one of the new seed drills, recently invented in England, for their farm.  But the husband had run up substantial gambling debts, to her shock, leveraging their farm as collateral. This forced his wife to find ways to pay them off without relinquishing her inheritance and home.

 Brian recommended attending the sale, grateful for the opportunity to both have access to items they would not normally be able to afford, and to help a neighbor in need. When he offered more than the woman had asked for the hoe, out of kindness, she gave them the drill in addition.

 Ellen, remembering Adelaide, said a quiet prayer to God for her health and happiness, and one of thanks for providing what they had been in need of.

 Claire had spent the morning with Jenny and Willie, working on Geometry and Geography, careful not to divulge any information not already known. She had always to control herself from correcting anyone, especially as it applied to both the onset and outcomes of wars, to ensure she didn’t raise suspicion. 

 Afterwards she strolled to the greenhouse. It’s earthy smell was a true comfort.  Not only did it bring many digs to memory -  a huge-brimmed hat on her head, digging tools in her hand and in the pockets of her utility pants - but it reminded her of Jamie’s thoughtfulness and love.

 The chorus of birdsong seemed to grow each day.  It was the perfect accompaniment to her quiet rustling inside the shed; she felt like she was seated in a box next to the orchestra pit.  Apart from the warbles,  pip-pip-pips, and scree-screes was one lone ‘instrument’ she hadn’t heard in years. It’s peculiar cadence always set it apart from other birds:  The white-throated sparrow.

 “Ahh.  There you are my friend. I’ve missed you!” 

 She stood in the doorway, wiping the dirt from her hands on her apron.  Not far off she heard the men’s calls and whistles coaxing and directing the horse. “How grateful we are for the sun’s warmth in spring but how much we loathe it in summer,” she laughed to herself, enjoying the intermittent rays on her face through the scattered clouds.

 “So, Beauchamp, what WILL you do for Jamie’s birthday?” she wondered aloud, blowing a curl back from her face.  “I can’t top a greenhouse, breakfast in a Broch, a Christmas tree, a marriage proposal, and taking in me and my time-traveling family.  I’ll think of something.  In the meantime, these seedlings need watering.”

 She strode down to the well. She knew by its natural rise that it was artesian, but also by its lack of a pump; as well, neither she, Lamb, nor Joe had gotten sick from drinking it after they arrived. She dropped a bucket into the stone enclosure, watching as the rope disappeared. The ground several feet down was probably still frozen, which would make the water ice-cold.  Sure enough, when she pulled the pitcher up it splashed freezing cold water. She sat it down and scooped a handful to her mouth.

“This is the sweetest, coldest water…”  She scooped another handful, then poured it into the other bucket and carried it to the shed.  She sat the seedling pots in a long metal tray of water so they could draw from the bottom, then sat them on a table inside the glass enclosure.

 When Claire returned to the house, Ellen was engrossed at her spinning wheel.  Claire had only seen these in local history centers, or in how-to videos on 18thcentury living.  Claire found Ellen in her room, the sound of the wheel’s movements making her curious enough to find its source.

 “Aye, love.  I’ve been meaning to teach ye this since yer doing better on yer needlepoint. Time to learn knitting now.”

 The more Claire learned, the more she appreciated the care and effort put into hand-made wool clothing; it certainly reinforced why bespoke clothing in the 21stcentury cost so much.  She took naturally and easily to this, relishing the time spent balling up the wool.  “I’ve always been a kinesthetic learner…” she mused, enjoying the feel of the wool in her hands and the movement of the foot pedal. The unmistakable but inoffensive fragrance of sheep permeated the room. Their gentle bleating and soulful eyes had brought Claire more than once to take scraps of food to their pen.  The dogs, of course, had been sweet little treasures, but the sheep had tugged at her heart.  She’d never been able to have a pet, and had, on different occasions growing up, asked Lamb for a giraffe, a puma, and a camel.  Jamie seemed perplexed at her affection for what he considered mere farm animals but was eventually touched by the love and kindness she showed them. It cemented, in his heart, that her love of animals would make her a warm, empathetic mother.

 Jamie hadn’t seen Claire’s new skill, and she made sure he didn’t, always working on the wheel while he was away for eventually the perfect present for his birthday came to mind.

 

 

 


	57. Chapter 57

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've changed the provenance of Ellen's pearls.

The Easter sermon Brian gave was on marriage. The family sat reverently and contentedly; myrtle, heather and bluebells were blanketing the land, along with honeysuckle, whose gentle fragrance filled the nave of the chapel through every cranny. It was hard to imagine anyone liking a season other than spring, though Claire remembered from a group project in her statistics class that the majority of the people that were questioned tended to have, as a favorite season, the one they had been born in. She realized she was the outlier in their data, favoring spring over fall, though there would always be something in fall she connected with. She looked down at Jamie’s hand, entwined in hers, and appreciated the joy and hopefulness that his spring-like nature brought.

After lunch, Brian asked everyone at the table if they would gather in the sitting room for a discussion of the wedding. There were the beautiful details to plan – the clothes, ceremony, and party – which the women would understandably become preoccupied with, but Brian needed to get down to brass tacks about other matters.

Brian took his role as Laird with great seriousness. He had certain noble powers which included performing weddings and giving blessings. From this position he spoke to his family.

“There are important considerations with regard to your wedding” Brian said, motioning to Jamie and Claire who were sat together “now that ye’ve decided on a date.” He was standing at the front of the room, lighting his pipe from the fireplace.

Jamie had his arm reassuringly around Claire.

“Have ye decided how ye’d like to be married and where?” Brian began.

Claire, uncertain what options there seemed to be, looked to Jamie. “I don’t understand.”

“We didna discuss this as yet, Da. I apologize,” Jamie quietly responded to Brian. His head had been so in the clouds, or full of mince as the Scots say, enraptured and in love, that he’d not focused on the practicalities of their upcoming wedding.

He turned to Claire.

“As Laird, Da can perform the marriage here at home, in the chapel, with yer signed consent. It’s what’s called an ‘irregular’ marriage; a regular one would be performed where ye’d like, without consent, but overseen by a priest and with an announcement running for weeks beforehand for everyone to hear and...” he nervously paused “present any objection.”

Claire, worried for what this could mean, looked to Lamb who was across the room.

“What kind of objections would normally be raised” Lamb asked Brian, attempting to understand the implications.

“Well, if there was a previous marriage, a vow of celibacy, or a couple where one is a catholic and the other isn’t.”

Lamb and Claire exchanged a glance of concern; neither were religious so weren’t catholic or church-goers. Their nomadic life hadn’t lent to securing a church family.

“Going the irregular route, then, without the religious attachment, would make it a civil ceremony?” Lamb questioned Brian.

“Aye.”

“All the same promises, so to speak, of marriage – fidelity, respect, honor, and so forth – but without the hand of the church?”

“Aye.”

“Could they write their own vows?” Lamb realized the oddness of the question but given the time period they now lived in he wanted to make sure Claire wouldn’t have to make vows of servitude.

A smile began to creep at the corners of Brian’s mouth at his impending, now repeated, reply: “Aye.”

Lamb looked to Claire. “Is this clearer, love?”

“Yes. So, if we choose an irregular marriage it proceeds without announcement, church involvement, and objections? I’d prefer that,” Claire said, panicked that her lack of any religious commitment would cause an objection and derail the marriage. She clutched Jamie’s hands, fear in her eyes.

“I want the chapel, and your Father, but if you’d prefer having something different, or with a priest…”

“Aye, lass” he said comfortingly, holding her cold, shaking hands “we’ll stay here at the chapel.”

Relieved, Claire fell into Jamie’s arms.

“What remains are the guest list, accoutrement, food, and time it will take place,” Brian finished, grateful to have the wedding at Lallybroch.

“I’ll handle the lad’s suit” Murtagh said, his eyes bright with happiness.

“Jenny, Emily, and I will take over everything else, with Joe and Lamb’s assistance?” Ellen asked, craning her head down the sofa at the two men.

“Absolutely.” “Without question.” the men spoke over each other.

Willie, scrunched beside Jamie and Claire, wiggled out and stood up. “I havena been assigned anything,” he said, a quiver in his voice.

The room fell quiet.

“Son, ye’ll be the Laird’s assistant.” Brian addressed him. “There will be forms to write, a sermon to prepare….at least a dozen responsibilities.”

Willie nodded, relieved. “I appreciate that, Da. Ye can count on me.”

Brian walked over and pulled Willie to him, kissing him on the top of his head. “I apologize, son. Ye werena forgotten.”

“I just wanted to make sure,” he said, hugging his Da.

Brian, his posture now indicating that he was finished speaking, took a long puff on his pipe. He was about to conclude the meeting but remembered something else.

“Jamie, ye’ll be more diligent in informing Claire of ceremony and other details?”

His admonishment was not missed by Jamie, who had neglected to help Claire understand critical details. “Aye, Dad. I wilna be remiss again.”

~~~~~

In bed that evening, Ellen pulled out her sewing kit from under the bed. She was nearly finished with Claire’s bag; the last task was completing the drawstring with the gold cord. The cream-colored silk, with its interwoven colored vines, was a stunning contrast to the rich purple velvet of the interior.

Brian, who had been snuggled beside her watching her work, reached over and touched the fabric. “’tis fine material.”

“Verra fine.”

“This is a strong match, to be sure” Brian said.

Ellen looked over the top of her spectacles. “The material?”

Brian smiled. “That too, but I was speaking of Jamie and Claire.”

“Ah” she said, pulling the threader and cord through the channels in the fabric she’d created. Placing the bag on her lap, she opened and closed it to ensure easy use, then sighed almost imperceptibly.

“Something on yer mind, Mrs. Fraser?” Brain said, placing a kiss on her arm.

“I feel I should put something in the bag, ken? Not give it empty.”

“Do ye have any ideas?”

“I think I may pass down my pearls to Claire. Jamie can give her both as a wedding present. It’s time.”

Brian leaned up on his elbow and placed his head on his hand.

“My mam would be proud; they were a gift to her from Da, and I know they both would have loved Claire.

From her side, Brian saw a warm smile grow on Ellen’s face.

“And?”

“I was just considering that Claire can one day pass them down to _her_ daughter.”


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one really got away from me so I separated it into vignettes. The ending brings in the second, though ominous, arc.

The previous year had been one of the most successful years the farm had had. As was his custom, Brian portioned out a share of the profits to each person; the rest was divided between savings, the wedding, and charity. 

Though the family was self-sustaining, the time had come for another trip to town for supplies. Ellen and Claire would need material for the wedding dress, shoes and whatever women needed to feel special, Jamie’s suit, and invitations. Tobacco had run out as well - a serious situation! Hauling out the wagon, Brian and Murtagh hitched the horses. Claire and Joe exchanged repeated “Ooooh! We’re in a wagon!” looks, at times holding on for dear life when it hit random “potholes” in the road. Eventually they reached town, disembarking at the tavern where Jamie and Murtagh had stayed nearly a year ago. 

The gentlemen stepped down first, helping the ladies off. Lamb began to go in with Brian, to secure the rooms, but Brian waved him off: “Enjoy some time with yer niece and Joe. I’ll handle the bills.” He clapped Lamb on the shoulder. “Please – let me buy dinner then?” Lamb asked. Brian had found a warm kinship with Lambert and Joe. They were much like him; dedicated to hard work and family. It had not skipped his notice how stronger his family had become with them being here. “Aye, yer verra kind.”

Stood on the street, Joe and Lamb gawked at the activity: horse-drawn carts, hitch-posts, shops…it had been their first public interaction since Hogmany. 

“This is surreal,” Joe said, his eyes darting from one place to another. “I feel like I’m supposed to tip my hat to women or something.”

Lamb was equally distracted: “Feels like we’re on a movie set.” 

Lodging secured, the family split apart to gather what they’d need.

Emily, Jenny, Ellen and Claire went first for fabric and notions at the haberdashery. Jamie stood at the door with Claire, but she stopped him with a hand to his chest. “I want the material to be a surprise. So…shoo.”

Jamie grabbed his heart dramatically, pretending to be shot.

“Ye’ve hurt me deeply lass,” he groaned, kneeling to the ground in mock pain.

“Go on. Get your stuff,” she giggled.

“I’ll see ye soon, then” he said, pulling her to him and nuzzling her hair.

“You shall” she purred.

Jamie joined Murtagh, who was grateful he didn’t have to remember soap fragrances or buy lace again, as they crossed the road with the other men to the gentlemen’s store and tobacconist. 

~~~~~~~~~

Claire ran her fingers over bolts of fabrics. Emily and Jenny, hand-in-hand, went straight for the ribbons.

“It’ll be blazing hot in July, so no silk, unfortunately. It would be wiser to pick cotton, or linen. And yet…” Claire thought, going down the rows, “this satin is beautiful.” Its sheen and ivory color reminded her of a pearl.

She’d once seen a wedding photo online of a young couple at a chapel; the woman’s gown was a stunning 1930’s style. She desperately wanted to replicate it and considered this as she pulled out bolts. “Satin, lace for the hem of the train, bodice, and the, umm, I think it was a circular cap sleeve.”Lamb had given her some money to ensure she got what she wanted: “Please – make sure to steer away from ‘practical’ and veers towards ‘beautiful.’ I want you to be happy.” Brian had also given Ellen a purse above what was used for the running of the household: “I love ye, darling. Be generous to yerself – Jenny and Emily too.”

The owner, Graham, had noticed Jamie. He remembered his purchase and would ensure his lass and family would be taken care of.

“Good afternoon. How may I assist you?” he greeted them; his experience – both professional and personal – led him to deduce wedding preparations.

“I’m here to buy material for my wedding gown,” Claire said, holding back tears.

“I offer you my heartfelt congratulations. I see you’ve made choices already?”

Thankful that Claire had an experienced eye and didn’t need advice, Ellen went to Emily and Jenny who both were mesmerized by skeins of ribbon. Glancing at what Claire had chosen, in terms of color and texture, Ellen guided the ladies to different materials for all of their dresses that would complement but not upstage Claire’s. 

The pile on the counter – material, ribbons, lace, thread, buttons, and needles – nearly tumbled off. Ellen advised on the yardage, which Graham noted as he went to make cuts. While he was wrapping the items, he placed the hand-written invoices towards them. Ellen, tallying the bills in her head, saw that everything had been discounted. 

“I understood the material to be one third more, and the thread, buttons, and ribbon were…”

“I hope you will accept this as my present to the bride and her new family.”

Ellen’s confusion turned immediately to warmth. “Thank ye.”

Glancing at her own invoice, Claire measured out the money. “You are indeed very kind, and I deeply appreciate your generosity.”

“My pleasure, Madame, Mesdemoiselles. And again, my sincerest Congratulations.” 

 

~~~~~~~~~

The men went to three different stores. Murtagh took pride ensuring Jamie’s wedding ‘suit’ was perfect and complete, advising him on every piece. He took it as a Godfather’s responsibility.

It was hard not to be impressed when Jamie had, finally, been outfitted. He came from behind the screen where he had been assembling himself and stood nervously, having never been this formally attired.

Brian saw his father in the set of Jamie’s jaw and his clear green-blue eyes, but he also saw worry. “Are ye unsure of something, lad?”

“Will she..” Jamie began, but paused “be happy do ye think?”

It was both Lamb and Joe, but also Murtagh, who picked up on the implication.

“Son, she will surely be happy. No need for worry on that,” Lamb said, a look of complete assurance in his eyes.

Jamie’s jaw became unclenched and his shoulders loosened. 

“I appreciate that.”

 

~~~~~~~~~

Daylight wasn’t as diminishing in the evening with summer creeping in, thankfully, as more had to be done. With everything dropped off in their rooms, Brian and Ellen, Claire and Jamie went to the papermaker for invitations. The same woman that had sold Jamie his sheets, Beatrice, was here again, a knowing smile on her face as she saw him come in with Claire.

She slyly winked at him. “What can I do fer ye today?”

“Wedding Invitations” Jamie said, a catch in his throat.

“Aye, lad. It’d be my pleasure.”

She brought out design card examples for Jamie and Claire while Brian and Ellen filled out details separately.

“Aww! Little cherubs and ribbons. I like this one,” Claire said, waving the sample card at Jamie. Distracted from the dozen or so to pick from, he glanced over at what Claire had chosen. 

“Aye. ‘tis fine.”

“Just fine?”

“This is nice,” he pointed to another card. “I like the trees and mountains. There are wee fawn on it too. Reminds me of…” Touched by Jamie’s reference to the park where they met, Claire caught Beatrice’s eye and handed the card to her. “We’ll use this one.”

"Aye, Lass. I'll 'ave these to the printer and sent to yer home straightaway."

 

~~~~~~~~~

Brian and Ellen asked Jamie and Claire to go on without them as they left the paper shop. “We’ve something else to do and will meet ye for dinner.”

Claire was glad of it as she wanted to do some shopping on her own. “Would you mind a few more stops?” 

“Nay, lass. Lead the way.” Jamie gave her his elbow. 

“In my time, there’s a saying for a woman’s wedding day, “she said, hurrying down the flagstone sidewalk. ‘Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.”

“And a sixpence in your shoe,” Jamie winked, keeping step with his anxious fiancée. 

“I hadn’t heard that! Now I need something else! So, a sixpence, presents for my Maid of Honor and my Bridesmaid, something for your Mum…”

“I hope ye dinna mean to starve me. We’re to be back for…”

Claire stopped and yanked Jamie to her. She looked into his beautiful eyes for several seconds, then soundly kissed him.

“There. Live on that for half an hour.”

~~~~~~~~~

Emily had been a ward of the town’s Parish. Her mother had been a strumpet who didn’t have the time or money to care for the child, placing her there at birth. At 13 the wards have to leave at which point Ellen took the girl in. It had been eight years she’d been with them and had become family quickly, given her grateful heart and loving demeanor. Consequently, each year Brian and Ellen gave a gift for the Parish’s operation but also for the care of orphans as well. 

They came in, crossed themselves, then sat in a pew. Father Daniel, the stalwart Priest who had served the community for 30 years, greeted them shortly after speaking with an elderly couple who had stopped to light candles. He was a man of deep compassion and love. His gentle brown eyes and warm voice never failed to soften your heart.

“Brian, Ellen” he said, coming down the aisle to their pew. “It’s wonderful to see you again. God Bless you.” 

“And may He bless ye as well.”

They presented their small bag, which he gratefully took: “Thank you for your generosity. There are many in need at this time. This will go to feed and comfort the Lord’s children.”

“It’s our pleasure.”

“May I pray for you?” he asked.

“Our son is to be married shortly. If ye would be inclined, a prayer for their happiness and health.”

“You have that, and my congratulations.”

More parishioners began filing in.

“We’ll be on our way, then,” Brian said “please send us word should you ever need anything.”

“God Bless, dear friends.”

~~~~~~~~~

Back at the paper shop, Beatrice was about to close up when she heard the door open. In the back room she’d just gathered her bag and the keys to the store.

“Oy. I dinna know why there’s always one who shows up as I’m closing,” she whispered to herself. She came into the front area, prepared to send them off until morning when she saw him. Her heart, and then her breathing, constricted.

“Can I help ye Lieutenant Randall?” she choked out.

“ _Captain_ Randall, and yes you MAY.”

The talk had been that he was banished here, and demoted, for licentious behavior, conduct unbecoming an Officer, and insubordination. This egregious behavior preceded him, causing townspeople to cross the street to avoid him or close their establishments should his presence be known.

Unfortunately, word had not reached Beatrice.

The black of his hair and eyes stood in shocking contrast to the red of his uniform which was unnecessary but which he still wore for affect. This didn’t engender respect, as he’d maybe hoped, but contempt.

“What would ye be needin’ then?” she said somewhat loud to attract her husband who was drying sheets in the back.

“To order Lord Gray’s stationary. Why else would I be here?” Relegated to lackey, his mood was continually sour.

Randall’s eyes scanned anywhere and everywhere in order to dissuade meaningless small talk. An invoice with the name “Fraser” sitting at the top of a tray immediately caught his attention, compelling him to grab it: “25 Wedding Invitations, with envelopes, Style 14. To read: Laird Brian Fraser and Lady Ellen Fraser request the honour of your presence at the wedding of their son, James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser to Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, July 13th, 1777, at 1:00 p.m., Lallybroch.” Rage seized him and he nearly crushed it in his hand.

Without thinking she snatched the invoice back, about to reprimand him, when his hand rose to strike her. Her husband Johnathan, arriving at her side, none too subtly wiped off the knife he’d been using to shred scrap material and placed it on the counter.

“G’day _Captain_ Randall. Fine weather, aye?” Johnathan said, crossing his arms across his wide, muscular chest.

Recognizing the obvious threat, Randall merely raised an eyebrow, grudgingly gave order details, then plunked down coins and walked out.

Johnathan immediately locked the door then pulled down the shades.

“The Devil’s in that man” Beatrice said, making the sign of the cross over herself.


	59. Chapter 59

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be on hiatus for two weeks. If you’re subscribed, you’ll get notified when I post the next chapter. When I return, the story will be picking up with wedding preparations.
> 
> Thanks to all of you who have been supportive, faithful readers, and to everyone who has taken the time to leave a kudo or kind comment. It means a lot.
> 
> G.

(Former) Captain Jack Randall had been “reassigned” to the highlands of Scotland three years ago after one too many personal altercations - drunkenness, accusations of attempted rape, false imprisonment, aggravated assault - had tarnished not only his, but the Crown’s reputation. His personal dalliances had ended up causing enough notoriety and used up so much coin in paying accusers off that he was sent, along with his complicit and equally burdensome CO Lord John Grey, to an outpost in the highlands for one purpose: ensure no further risings. The insurrection currently threatening the crown was the American Colonists. Should the Scots get wind that a group was challenging the King it could embolden another revolt. This, by whatever means, had to be dissuaded.

Grey, by virtue of his privileged family, purchased a commission in the British army, thereby bypassing the grunt work associated with rising in rank. He was not without improprieties as well, though not as barbaric and impudent as Randall’s; he refrained from hard work, lazed his days away drinking confiscated whiskey, and neglected those in his charge. Grey’s dalliance with a fellow officer, kept secret, had caused him to overlook Randall’s similar situations by paying off several townsmen and bar patrons who threatened to charge Randall with indecency or assault. Claiming “miscommunication” or “misunderstanding,” Grey had used a rather large chunk of the coffer to keep such suits from reaching court, and therefore the public eye.

This incessant misbehavior had now reached General John Burgoyne, to his utter disgust. He was a man dedicated to propriety, honor, and code. Sat in front of his very large desk and under a very threatening gaze, Grey and Randall were finally brought to task.

“Am I not contending with enough in the Colonies that I have continually to lose face and fortune on your continuing insubordination and misdeeds?“ Burgoyne stormed, his voice reverberating off the brass planter near the floor of his desk.

At that moment Burgoyne’s secretary was stood in the doorway waiting permission to enter.

“What IS it Lancaster?” Burgoyne meted out.

The unnerved Corporal walked past Grey and Randall – their reputation so soiled as to not even warrant acknowledgement – and asked for the General’s ear. Sighing loudly, he tilted his head to the worried Corporal who leaned in closely:

“Colonel Benedict Arnold and his troops have forced our retreat in Connecticut,” he whispered.

As the information became digested, the General’s face seemed to swell with rage: “WHAT IS GOING ON?” he yelled so loudly the men jumped. “THEY ARE NOT EVEN A LEGITIMATE ARMY!”

Lancaster, expecting such a reaction, merely dropped his head and pursed his lips, clasping his hands behind his back. He respected the General immensely and was as angry he had to become mired in such seemly work as Randall and Grey presented.

“Orders, Sir?” Lancaster asked.

Burgoyne began to immediately dictate communication to be distributed to the field commanders when he remembered the oafs sitting in front of him. Instead, he nodded to Corporal Lancaster who understood he was to leave.

Both Grey and Randall, afraid to move or speak, merely stared.

Burgoyne was now gripping the chair’s armrests; anything to keep himself grounded. “If I hear of one instance of indecorum, no matter how insignificant, or that you are unable to manage…”

He looked to see if either man actually fathomed their newest commission.

“Preventing any dissent or rebellion.” Grey offered, knowing Randall’s standing was more tenuous.

“I. Will. Have. Your. Heads.” Burgoyne hissed. “GET OUT.”

 

~~~~~~

Jamie’s birthday had enough fuss for him to feel special. Claire’s present was a mock-tartan blanket with his initials, which she meant to bring comfort and warmth to the man who had restored life and hope to her.

“Ye’ll be next to my heart every night” he said, grateful for her thoughtfulness.

While cleaning up a week later, Claire had a thought for a wedding present while looking at Ellen’s sewing basket. “I’ll make a wedding sampler. I remember seeing one on an antiques show on the telly. It was over a hundred years old and quite valuable due to it’s size and colors.”

She rummaged for material, yarn, and a needle. She measured off and cut a large rectangle then planned where the various elements would go. “I’ll make two doves at the top holding a large ribbon that will make the border and put our wedding date in the middle.” When the sun’s rays began to overtake the room she was sat in, Claire could smell lunch. She offered to take it to the men, rather than them coming to the house, because it was birthing season.

Basket in tow, she followed the sound of conversation towards the stables where she suspected they were helping with the ewes. She caught sight of Jamie, washing his arms at the well, his shirt on the ground. “Yep, he must have helped with some births” she thought, skipping to him. Engrossed, he didn’t see her.

“Why ‘ello, luv! I’ve brought…”

Jamie scrambled to get his shirt and put it on but he wasn’t fast enough. Claire stood motionless in shock, unable to take her eyes off the twisted scars on his wrists.

“Claire!” Jamie said, startled. “I’m sorry. I....I should have said something.”

Afraid, but worried for what he had endured, Claire slowly sat the basket down.

“Jamie! What happened to you?”

Though he was uncomfortable with her seeing this painful reminder of his past, he nonetheless offered up his wrists to her probing hands.

“Were you…arrested for something” she asked after a hard swallow.

“Aye.”

Claire quickly, but gently, let go of his hands then wrapped her arms around herself.

He put his shirt back on, tucking it into his kilt more as a means to have time to gather his thoughts than to make himself presentable.

“I did no wrong. Please believe me.”

She nodded absent-mindedly.

Just then Murtagh yelled from the barn: “JAMIE! The lambing will no take care of itself!”

“IFRINN!” Jamie stormed “Chan urrainn dhomh cuideachadh!”*

Murtagh, piecing together what must have happened, disappeared.

“But you were arrested” she said, staring at the ground.

“Claire, ye ken these times are rough for Scots. Ye must know this. Especially after the uprising.”

“Of course I do.”

Rather than any lead-up, he just spat it out:

“Murtagh, Da and I were in town – years ago - when a redcoat assaulted a man for stepping in his way. His wife fought back which caused her to be assaulted as well. I stepped in to help but I was arrested…held in the prison for assaulting an officer of the crown.”

The pain and shame in Jamie’s voice brought Claire to lift her eyes. “I know you wouldn’t lie to me. But why did you hide something like this?”

Needing her reassurance, he put his hand out for her take.

“I didna ever expect to see ye” he said into her neck. “I thought ye’d go on with yer life. I was only glad that I had ye for the little bit I did in those letters. I was going to carry that with me for the rest of my life but ye came, and I didna want to frighten ye after all ye’d been through, or disgust ye so that ye’d leave and possibly risk yer life again. Then, I saw how happy ye were - ye and yer family – and…I was afraid.”

“You sweet man.” she said, wiping his cheeks. “How were you able to get out?”

At this, Jamie’s pain grew.

“I was held on 100 pounds bail. Murtagh…sold his house. ‘tis why he lives with us now. We dinna ever bring it up out of respect.”

“I’m so sorry for what you, and your family, went through. And I promise not to say anything.”

She wound her arms tightly around him, feeling the weight of his relief in how he fell onto her.

“And I promise I’ll never leave you.”

 

 

 

* I can't help


	60. Chapter 60

Claire had been standing for over an hour while Ellen pinned material around her. 

“And yer sure of the neckline?” Ellen asked, surprised at the somewhat plunging v-neck Claire wanted.

“I am. I’m going to be nervous, which will make me hot, so any means to keep cool.” This reasoning was the best compromise to saying the design was a 1930’s imitation, or that it was a predominant style in the colonies.

Ellen’s pale blue eyes softened, and she attempted a smile of acceptance despite the pins in her mouth. “Aye” Claire felt them say.

With the bodice complete they stopped, thankfully. The rising sun had quickly heated up Ellen and Brian’s room even with the window open. Though small, the room was simply and comfortably outfitted, creating a warm and secure atmosphere. It felt like what a parent’s room should feel like; one you would want to come to when you were afraid or wanted to talk. Claire loved being here the past week, and in the house as a whole. The permanence, solidness grounded her. It was more than a house; it was a family that lovingly accepted Murtagh, Emily, and now she, her Uncle, and Joe. It wasn’t as much a testament to the building as it was to Brian and Ellen’s love and compassion.

“I’ll clear off the table so we can finish the invitations?” Claire asked, having sat the material on the chaise at the bottom of their bed and changing back into her clothes. Emily and Jenny’s dresses, both finished, were proudly hanging on each of their wardrobes.

“I’ll put my things away and meet ye downstairs, love.”

Sat with blotters, ink pots, quills, and Ellen’s vast memory for names and addresses, Claire stuffed and Ellen wrote.

“Do you have any family nearby?” Claire asked, curious, sealing an envelope.

“We do,” Ellen smiled. “Some from both sides.”

“Angus, Rupert, Willie…” Claire iterated, thumbing through the invitations already in a pile.

“Aye. Angus and Rupert are cousins, as is Willie. He’s been in seminary.”

“How lovely! He’s looking forward to being ordained then, I’m sure.”

“Of course. Kind lad, beautiful heart.”

“I really can’t wait to meet them. I’m so happy to be part of this family.”

Ellen looked up from writing, reaching over to take Claire’s hand.

“Lass, the pleasure is ours.”

When they were finished, Claire excused herself. Her garden was thriving but she wanted to water it and make sure the tomato plants weren’t bursting out of the cages she had Jamie make out of twigs and twine.

When she arrived, she saw a bucket nearby, a well-watered garden, and a snoring Jamie on the ground. She smiled at his thoughtfulness, giving a quick glance over the plants, then quietly approached him. She sat beside him, gently pulling his right arm off his chest. She very softly laid a kiss on his wrist, saddened at his abuse, then sat it on her lap. She kissed his forehead, both cheeks, his nose, and finally his lips. “You smell delicious” she whispered, kissing his neck, “like sunshine and breezes.”

One green eye slowly opened, and the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

She pulled his left hand to her lips. “Earth and…water” she continued, kissing each finger. Taking this same hand she wrapped it around her back. She propped herself across him and slowly lowered herself for another kiss.

Jamie happily complied. After a moment, he whispered:

“Then let amourous kisses dwell  
On our lips, begin and tell  
A Thousand and a Hundred score  
A Hundred and a Thousand more.” 

Claire pulled her hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Catallus” she whispered back, nuzzling his face. Jamie thought he could hear her purring.

“Lass,” he said, kissing her softly “we canna let desire overtake us just yet. We’ve only just several weeks ‘til we’re married.” He paused. “I’m reminding myself as well.”

She saw seriousness in his eyes, though his voice was soft and loving. 

Jamie, as usual, had been thinking ahead. She realized that she’d become more emotional, less academic, being with him. Before, she was much more analytical. It wasn’t that her scientific mind had packed up and left; rather, it finally took a rest. So now, because she trusted Jamie and finally experienced a man’s loyalty and respect, she felt her sexual side blossoming and lately it had been blossoming quite often.

“I canna let anything mar our wedding day, mo chridhe. I want us to be free of guilt. I promised yer Uncle I’d respect ye, and Da taught me ne’er to touch a woman before marriage. I couldna look at them, or ye, ever again if I let things get away from us.”

Claire agreed with this, of course, despite the pang of desire gripping her.

Jamie sat up and put his arms around her.

“It makes me feel whole, strong, knowing I please ye. But I – we - canna give in.” 

Claire nodded into his shoulder.

He pulled himself back to be face to face with her. “Claire, I dinna mean to upset ye, or make ye regret what ye feel.”

Realizing that a care-free wedding day – something she looked forward to, had dreamed of her whole life – could quickly become one where not only she and Jamie, but their family and, inevitably, the guests, would feel anything less than joyful was a chance she would not take. 

He got to his feet and put his hand out for her.

“Come wi’ me? I’ve something to show ye.”

He helped her up and they walked to the potting shed, but just outside Jamie put his finger to his lips. 

As they peered in through the door, which Jamie had earlier propped open with a rock, there in the corner was a Momma duck sitting on her brood. 

“’tis a good sign, aye?” *

 

 

*In asian culture, a pair of mandarin ducks was gifted to a bride on her wedding day because they’re regarded as symbols of fidelity. Jamie wouldn’t have known this, but I used a duck - rather than a rabbit, or even a pheasant – anyway.


End file.
